


Vaults

by helo572



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gallifrey, Gen, Multiple Doctors (Doctor Who), Time War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A distress signal lies right in the heart of Cardiff and the Doctor is called to answer it. Not one, but two of them. </p><p>It all starts to go downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before you start - I know, I know. Classic Who AND New Who? It's destined to be a travesty. You're probably right.
> 
> Thing is, ages ago, I roleplayed this storyline out to its very conclusion with a great partner. I was re-reading our threads from then, months ago, thinking... oh, I could totally fic this. I haven't fic'd anything in years but I could probably fic this. Wouldn't be too hard, right?
> 
> I read it, again, again and again, and the storyline itself isn't bad. Sure, it has holes, everything does, and this is me we're talking about. Plus, the holes aren't tooooo big. What's difficult about fic'ing this is its execution. I want SO badly to label this as crack!fic, because it practically is, but I'm writing it seriously. Actually, probably more reworking our thread into fic format seriously. Not a lot of writing on my part. Anyway.
> 
> You can read this however you want, but please, heed my warning - it's going to sound like crack!fic the further you delve in. If I ever do fic all of it, I quite love the ending and want to share it with you, but want to know a secret? The thread we have, coupled with all its replies, is over 300,000 words long. Combine that with editing it into fic form, it's probably shorter, but it's still work and room for a LOT of plot holes. 
> 
> I want to do this because my partner and I are no longer together, and that makes me sad, and to be honest this was the one I enjoyed most out of all the roleplays she and I did together. It was our first one! So that's that. Thank you for reading this! Just thought it was important to note as a disclaimer.
> 
> TLDR: This fic is crack!fic in disguise. Read as you like, but you've been warned :*)

She felt like she was going out on a bit of a whim here – with her bedroom shaking as if it was re-enacting a terrible seizure, her book attempting to leave the safety of her hands, and the contents of her shelves spewing all over her pink carpeted floor – that it might be the Doctor currently attempting to pilot the TARDIS.

 

An inpatient sigh didn’t hesitate to leave her lips, nor did she delay from allowing the book to complete its quest to join her bead collection. She went to discover the source of the sudden cacophony, witty insults at the ready. Emerging into the circular room, the scene was exactly as she imagined – he was rushing about in a scurry, only just keeping his footing as he flicked every second lever and pushed every fourth button, his scarf flying wildly behind him.

 

“Now, what is going on in here?” she demanded with a deadly flick of an eyebrow.

 

Somehow, in his frantic routine (or lack thereof), he paused to give her a wide grin, which she returned with a cock of the same eyebrow. “Alright, I give up, what  _is_  going on here, Romana?” He reached across the console to try the stabilizers.

 

He was still grinning, she realised, as the room lurched violently and sent them both tumbling to the floor. She quickly picked herself up, mouth open for retort, but he was already talking, “Well then,” he said, already on his feet and adjusting his awful hat, “I won’t be trying the stabilizers again.”

 

She let out a long suffering sigh and then carefully padded over to the console, each step cautious. Lucky for the Doctor, Romana had actually  _passed_  her flight exams. With a quick inversion of the temporal flux, and recalibration of the navigation computer, the room settled itself to its rightful angle. The Doctor let out a relieved sigh.

 

“It appears she’s locked onto a distress signal,” she told him, still at the computer. “It’s of alien origin, though from data here…” She squinted at the text on the screen. “it’s from Cardiff. On Earth.”

 

His brow furrowed. “Cardiff?” He moved to join her at the computer. “Now that’s a bit under dramatic, isn’t it? We ought to find out how the Welsh managed to accomplish that one.”

 

He didn’t bother any further with the computer. He adjusted his scarf around his neck so that it wasn’t entirely a tripping hazard, and then made a beeline for the door. Romana watched him go, a pang of resentment making its way through her chest; humans always managed to gain the attention and interest of the Doctor.

 

 

 

 

When she did join him outside, he was giving the open air in front of them a beam that Romana would only earn if she were to discover Braxiatel’s secret diary.

 

“Ah, look at that,” he said, with much more enthusiasm one would normally have for an open space. She’d bet Rassilon’s beard that he had been waiting until she stepped outside to begin talking. (Though, catching him holding a fully-fledged conversation with himself was not uncommon.) “ _That_  is how you make a secret base!”

 

Romana looked the air in front of her up and down. “There's nothing here.”

 

Of course, not one of her words had reached his ears.

 

“You know, I used to tell the Brig how dull UNIT was. Even if you keep in mind that it’s  _supposed_  to defend the Earth from the most evil of creations… but you know what? He told me I’m too dramatic! That they need the money for more important things!”

 

He was gesturing wildly, pacing up and down, and gesturing to the empty space in front of them. She suppressed another sigh.

 

“Doctor.”

 

He looked at her.

 

“There’s nothing here.”

 

“Ah,” he said.

 

She was going to say something about moving on before the Black Guardian appeared, but somebody with a rhotic Earth-American accent cut in, “You’re not the Doctor.”

 

The Doctor turned quickly to face their new arrival, ready to retort, but instead he closed his jaw with an audible ‘clack’. Romana also had to grimace. There was something-

 

“Romana, look!”

 

By Rassilon, how her thunder was being stolen today. He was  _already_  grinning. She didn’t know how his mouth could contain  _all_  of those teeth, let alone how his tiny cheeks could contain that  _stupid_  smile.

 

“Yes, Doctor?”

 

The man in front of them might have been Maxil, he was frowning so much.

 

“What a fascinating specimen you are! Let me tell you, there aren't many fixed points walking and talking and accusing me of not being me." The grin had sobered slightly, but was nowhere near vanishing. "It's a wonder you haven't been dealt with yet. I should send a complaint."

 

Well, she had been right. There was some _thing_.

 

“Now, I really don’t-” the Fact began.

 

On cue, another blue box slowly faded into existence beneath the foundation, near the Doctor’s self-proclaimed secret base, the only evidence of its arrival being the sound which normally would have been music to Romana’s ears.

 

“Oh… no,” The Doctor was gawking. "No!"

 

She stared, too. So did the Fact. Though, her attention was divided between the Fact beside her and the Doctor…s? The man beside her was a marvel, one which needed to be escorted to Gallifrey as soon as this matter was dealt with. Which, admittedly, was quite a pressing matter. To be honest, she wasn’t sure which topic would cause the Time Lords more grief – the Fact or the paradox. It wasn’t exactly advertised as good time travelling when you met yourself.

 

“And stay in there!” The Doctor, her Doctor, had promptly shoved himself back into the newly appeared TARDIS as he tried to leave. “I don’t need the universe imploding and everything that has ever existed to die! Or worse, the Time Lords on their way here!”

 

However, there was a flaw in his magnificent plan; the Time Lord instead escaped under his outstretched arm, being several hands shorter. Connected to the new arrival’s hand was a firehaired woman, who was obviously his companion. Yet another man followed. Romana couldn’t help but wonder where  _she_  was.

 

“That was rather rude of you, me." The new Doctor told Romana’s Doctor, "I'd be nicer to myself if I were you... which is actually a real problem because I don't  _remember_  being you looking at me. I should, shouldn’t I?"

 

“Certainly sounds like me to try and forget this.”

 

" _Well_ …. the universe hasn't imploded  _yet_." The new Doctor pointed out, so sheepish he may have been wearing wool and only wool.

 

“But you don't seem to get the concept of the grave danger with might be in!”  Now, only the Doctor could manage to sound impatient with himself. “This could end catastrophically, you know that, and if it gets out of hand and I end up trial again…” He was shaking his head, his curls bouncing about on top of his head. “I will at least try to remember to make sure you hit yourself right in the nose.”

 

He tapped the tip of his nose, which bought a slight smile to Romana’s face.

 

"Our timeline seems to be in quite a fragile state right now. And the High Council never approved of me meeting myself if it wasn't for their benefit, as you should remember."

 

He glanced back at Romana – no wait, the Fact – and then wacked on a grin to look at the new arrival. "And plus, I was here first, and I'm not going anywhere."

 

“You’re very welcome to deal with Jack, but I’m still staying,” the other one said. “Two geniuses  _are_  better than one, after all.” He raised his brows expectantly.

 

“Well, that does make sense,” her Doctor replied, praising himself. "The most brilliant man in the universe at the same location in time and space  _twice_." He clasped his hands together. "Though, I do hope for us that we don't damage the web of time  _too_  much."

 

Finally, Replacement Romana spoke up, “Wait... so, he's  _you_?" She was pointing at Romana’s Doctor. That bought a smirk to Romana’s face again, despite herself.

 

“Yes, of course he’s me,” the other Doctor replied. “I had to inherit all these traits from somewhere. The chatterbox one, definitely from this guy.”

 

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing!"

 

She really ought to put a stop to this bantering before it began. Should the High Council intervene now, she really didn’t want them to see… ah… what was it? The most brilliant man in universe? Participating in banter with himself? There were reputations to uphold.

 

She cleared her throat. The other one looked to her immediately.

 

“If you two have stopped arguing over whose got the bigger what, I do believe we’re infringing upon the laws of time for a reason.” She nodded to the Fact, who supposedly, was named Jack. How… anticlimactic. She had expected something William Shakespeare might have named his anti-hero.

 

"Ah, right, of course." Her Doctor straightened, his grin faltering. He turned his attention to the Fact, Jack. “State the nature of your emergency!”

 

Jack quickly adopted an amused grin, one which usually hid barely-contained laughter. He suppressed himself with surprising professionalism.

 

“Not really an emergency, I suppose, but we had someone fall through the rift a couple of days ago,” he explained. Her Doctor’s grin slowly faded. The other man was still listening. “We've done scans upon scans, but our equipment has to be acting up... It's telling us we’ve got a Time Lady."

 

She and her Doctor exchanged an unimpressed glance. It was strange a Gallifreyan, let alone a Time Lady, had fallen through a rift, as they had no need to be in close proximity to one in the first place. But it was not worth defying the laws of spacetime to call not one, but  _two_  Doctors by (alien) distress beacon.

 

Her Doctor was quick to reply, “Why, Time Ladies can be quite a lot of work.” Romana received a meaningful look. “But that isn't an emergency. Time Lords don't usually do...  _that_ ," He waved his hands around vaguely. "but if she is indeed a Time Lady, she should easily find her way to contact the Time Lords to return to Gallifrey or… wherever."

 

Romana gave him a slightly pointed look.

 

“Ah, yes! Of course, it would depend on who it is. Certain renegades don’t wish to associate with the Time Lords, quite like myself and company here,” her Doctor added.

 

There was a brief reprise of silence. The other Doctor and his companion had not yet said a word. He was still staring at Jack, his brow furrowed and his hands joined restlessly in front of him.

 

When he did speak up, it was quiet. “Maybe Pond and I should take care of this one, eh?” he chuckled with no humour behind it. “It’s lovely to see… er…  _teeth_  again, and it’s lovely to see you again too, Romana, but-”

 

Her Doctor cut over him sharply, “You suddenly want to get rid of me. Why?” He stepped closer and the lines of his face were emphasised. “There’s something I’m in the dark about, isn’t there?”

 

Although a sudden accusation, and probably unfounded, Romana found herself nodding anyway.

 

“How am I supposed to keep secrets from myself?” The other Doctor did not back down. He’d lapsed into a more relaxed pose, although it might be different to a trained eye. “It's rather ridiculous if you think about it. With timelines. And… stuff. It's all rather timey wimey wibbly wobbly, and you know, you'll eventually end up finding out anyway when you get to be me, standing here, and-"

 

“Pardon me, not that telling yourself things you already know isn’t incredibly fascinating, but have you forgotten who you are talking to?” Her Doctor looked offended. “We practically  _invented_  distraction by talking. I’m sure we could talk to the end of time itself, but I believe we had a reason for being dragged here.”

 

He looked to Jack. “Fact, would you lead us to the reason?”

 

Jack glanced around, meeting all of the eyes on him, and then nodded. Her Doctor nodded once, slowly, giving a sideways glance to the other one, who was wringing his hands in front of him. His companion leaned in and whispered something Romana didn’t catch.

 

“Uh… secret entrance, anybody?”

 

Now,  _that_  was line to drop at an awkward party. It certainly enlightened both Doctors’ faces with grins, rightfully so.

 

Jack led them to a panel in the concrete, encompassed in her Doctor’s ‘secret base’ schematics. Well. That was an ‘I Told You So’ to be cashed in later. The panel began to descend into the ground, slowly revealing the inner workings of a base beneath the service. Romana had to grin.

 

“Brilliant!” her Doctor exclaimed, with much more enthusiasm than necessary. “Now  _that_  is how you build a secret entrance!”

 

Romana just caught Jack’s grin.

 

“More strays? Really, boss?” Someone shouted up to Boss – Jack – whose grin quickly departed.

 

“I’ll have you know, Mr Harper, this is the Doctor.  _Two_  of them, actually.” Jack’s accent carried his voice across the expanse of the room easily, so the source of bickering below – a man, dark hair – snorted in amusement.

 

“You bring home the weirdest friends,” the same man commented.

 

“You’re actually talking about  _the_  Doctor?” another voice started, female, soft, and quieter than the man’s.

 

“Not to be rude or anything, but isn’t he the reason Torchwood was established in the first place?” the same man, at which Jack just laughed. Her Doctor was smiling, too. The other one was not.

 

"Two of them?" another voice put in, also accented, but differently to Jack’s. This man’s accent was gentle, soft, like a Gallifreyan sunset.

 

As soon as the lift came to a stop, her Doctor didn’t hesitate to step off, still beaming. “Oh look, Romana, I’m famous.” He moved over to the nearest person – the dark haired man, Mr Harper? – and inspected them closely. “Are you UNIT?”

 

“Torchwood,” Mr Harper deadpanned back, looking worriedly down his nose at his surveyor.

 

“Ah,” he replied. “Never heard of it. You’re definitely alien, though, aren’t you?”

 

He moved from Mr Harper and to observing the base instead while the others departed from the lift. The other Doctor still had not said much, evidently uncomfortable, which sent something uneasy down Romana’s spine.

 

“Not at all connected to UNIT?” her Doctor went on, now questioning the woman, who seated at a desk nearby. She was petite, her hair worn back off her face so Romana could clearly see the enthralled expression placed across her features. “If not, I really don’t want all this alien technology in the power of humans. Could result in something very not good.” He looked the woman up and down, and then turned back to Jack, expecting him to reply.

 

The Fact was working at his jaw. “We’re professionals.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

There was an awkward lapse of silence, in which Romana’s Doctor closely observed Jack, who suddenly had his brow raised in challenge.

 

“You have weird friends.” Mr Harper broke the silence, though was not looked at them. He tapped something on the nearby console, which set the elevator back into motion, returning to its rightful position.

 

The other Doctor smirked and scratched his forehead, looking around at their colourful group. Romana sighed loudly. Her Doctor was chewing his lip.

 

“I think we ought to continue our trek to the reason, Fact,” he said. “Where are you keeping this Time Lady you talked about?”

 

Jack was thankful for the continued flow of conversation. “Downstairs. We weren’t sure what to do with her. Gwen’s being trying to chat and Tosh is keeping a close eye on her. Ianto tried coffee. Not much luck so far, though.” He looked at the other Doctor, though he did not meet Jack’s gaze. “We thought you’d be able to help, being telepathic company. She’s been pretty unresponsive.”

 

Her Doctor was nodding vigorously. “Of course,” he said. “Let us see her, we will do what we can between us.”

 

 

 

With a few more quips from the Torchwood staff, Jack led their charge towards the reason. Romana’s Doctor did not save the eardrums of anybody in their party, but of course, it was her who had to humour him.

 

“You know,” the other one mentioned to her quietly at one point. “I get better as I get older. I promise.”

 

“Of course we do,” her Doctor quickly welcomed himself to their conversation. “Speaking of which, which one  _are_  you? Certainly an older one, unless I’m forgetting whole incarnations in my old age.”

 

“The eleventh,” the older one divulged.

 

“Oh dear!” Her Doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know there are so many of me running around! Alive! Ha!” He took the fabric of the other Doctor’s jacket between his fingers. “But this body is rather young-” He moved to the face, grabbing his chin, inspecting it closely. “Not another midlife crisis, I hope? I truly hoped the successor of the Coat of Doom would have put that behind him by now.”

 

Romana’s Doctor released the older one from his grasp. They were both smiling slightly.

 

“Midlife crisis? Really?”

 

“It’s the chin,” his companions shot towards them with a cheeky grin.

 

A larger grin crept onto Romana’s Doctor’s face. “You must be three millennia old now, though,” he observed.

 

“ _Well_...” He began to scratch the back of his neck.

 

Jack stopped them. “Just down here, Doctor…s.” He was pointing to a final set of stairs. Below, the lights were set to dim. It gave off a faint aura of home.

 

Her Doctor grinned at his counterpart, though it was weakly returned. The former look the steps two at a time, and the latter followed, seemingly afraid he might fall over. There  _was_  a lot of leg in comparison to the rest of him.

 

Romana followed them down, giving a smile to Jack as she went, but he only nodded in return. Replacement Romana had not made a move to follow her Doctor, and instead was chewing her cheek, her arms crossed defensively in front of her next to the other man.

 

Something crept up the base of Romana’s spine, working its way to a shiver as she progressed down the steps. Yes, it felt like home, but… something was wrong. It was smoke; fire. Something was burning and it was not the twin suns of Gallifrey. The flames were eating away at something, perhaps someone, and despair radiated across Romana's very essence. She felt like searching for a fire extinguisher, but the awful feeling in her gut was telling her not to both as there were none.

 

She almost neglected to stop for the two Doctors in front of her, who were frozen on the bottom step, looking into the fire. Except there were no flames, only a couch with a woman, a Time Lady, curled up with a book open in her lap, a blanket draped across her shoulders. It hid her shrill form well, but not well enough. She steadied herself on the second last step, behind the Doctors.

 

And the one on her right, the older one, gasped out, “ _Romana?_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

 

Emotions swirled about the room, almost crippling Romana where she stood. The voice of the eleventh Doctor seemed to echo from each of the four walls, flooding the whole room with raw, vulnerable feeling.

 

The tidal wave crashed on top of Romana, dissipating the breath from her lungs and the blood from her veins. The water engulfed the room, drenching the two Doctors on the floor below, and flooded the couch, quelling the thirst of the flames which enveloped the figure on the seating in a deadly embrace.

 

Water filled the room, steam rose to the roof, and Romana blinked.

 

“Doctor...?”

 

The steam stung at her eyes, and formed drops of water which dripped from her wrist, down her to her hand, across her palm and to the floor from the ends of her fingers.

 

Romana blinked again, and it was gone.

 

“Doctor?” herself asked again, louder.

 

The older one reconciled as if he'd been burnt. His words were hesitant, and his lower lip trembled, “Romana... I...”

 

Romana, both of them, held her breath. The other one... other her... her eyes bore into the eleventh Doctor's. Flames raged behind her large, brown eyes, but her face was dripping wet. She was crying.

 

“Romana,” he said, again, “I am... so, _so_ sorry.” His voice was soft, even softer than his eyes. 

 

He moved forward, Romana and her Doctor stepped backwards, together, but only the Doctor turned and bolted up the stairs. She did not follow him.

 

 

 

 

He ran, and wouldn't stop until he found the end of this place, but found himself stopping dead somewhere in the middle. He sunk down against the closest wall, his hat in his hands.

 

Nausea clawed at his throat, something which would never normally befell a Time Lord. Romana, his Romana? And himself, _oh_ , he was a sly one, with that bowtie, but a good one. He had known. If only his stubborn, _stupid_ self had listened.

 

“You alright there, Doc?”

 

In answer, he fiddled with his hat. “It makes sense now, you know. How everyone acted. And why I won't remember all this. You'll have to wipe it from my memory. But Eleven will, or Romana, the one you lot found.”

 

Oh, but Romana, _his_ Romana! The strongest, most bravest Time Lady to ever brave time and space. The most undeserving of this awful, despicable, terrible _hell_.

 

“The Time Lords are gone, aren't they?”

 

The Fact hesitated beside him.

 

Gallifrey had always seemed forever. But of course, the laws of time commanded, and eventually, even Gallifrey obeyed. Everything, everyone, even time itself, was not eternal. He had taken a long time to come to terms with this, and was at peace with it, but now...

 

All those names, and all those places. They would turn to dust. His family, his house, his dear Susan, his idiot brother, all his children and grandchildren, the Citadel with all its knowledge, power and glory. They would never exist. The Time Lords, wiped from time and space forever. For what?

 

Oh Rassilon, he couldn't breathe.

 

“Doc.” The Fact, Jack, was sitting next to him. “Hey. I was just saying, I've met four of you now. And really, I have to say, you have _best_ teeth I have seen in all my two thousand years.”

 

Despite everything, a smile crept to the Doctor's face. “My Sarah Jane used to tell me that I scared her at the beginning of this incarnation. She said she was afraid I would try to eat her.”

 

“Eating, huh?” Jack was grinning, but then a startled look overtook his face. “Wait, you mean, _the_ Sarah Jane? Sarah Jane Smith?”

 

He smiled warmly, thinking of her. “Yes,” he replied, looking over to Jack. “Do you know her? She's wonderful, isn't she? Sadly, I had to leave her and Harry behind before... before... going to Gallifrey.”

 

He dropped his gaze to the floor. Jack was his still looking at him.

 

“There were no aliens allowed back then, you see,” he continued. “I do hope she's well.”

 

Jack gave a confirming nod, a slight smile on his features.

 

“Jack,” he said again, looking back to him. “Do you know a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart? You must have heard that fancy name from somewhere in your business. He's the greatest man I have ever met in all my lives. He would have liked a man like yourself.”

 

Talking was good. Talking about anything, not even remotely important things. He was awfully proud of his friends though, and all they had accomplished in their short lifetimes. They had left their mark on the Earth, and on him.

 

“UNIT, right?”

 

The Doctor nodded.

 

Jack continued, “I've worked with his daughter before. Kate. She speaks highly of him.”

 

Breath caught in the Doctor's throat. “A daughter?” He chuckled. Yet another thing not to tell the old man. “I worked as UNIT's scientific advisor during my exile,” he told him. “I worked with the Brigadier.”

 

“Bet it was great. I mean, working with Kate was... interesting, so I'm sure her Dad lives up to the same standards. It was on a paradox actually, stuff with the rift. Nothing big. All that study at the Time Agency finally came in useful.”

 

“I'm sorry, _Time_ Agency?”

 

Jack pulled back his sleeve to reveal the vortex manipulator. “I was an agent before I met the Doctor. One of them, anyway.”

 

“Very interesting,” the Doctor remarked, inspecting the gadget on Jack's wrist closer, exercising enough self-restraint not to dismantle the invention there and then. “I had heard of humans trying to invent time travel. They never managed it, of course, the Time Lords kept sending people to sabotage them.”

 

The weight of what he'd said immediately bore down upon him, as soon as the words left his lips. The Time Lords weren't only dead, they were gone. Completely gone. Erased from time. He swallowed. “You're from the future, then?” he asked.

 

Jack answered, “50 th century. Ditched the agency though, kept the uniform. I ended up in World War II and it was there I met the Doctor. Then there's the short version of what happened – I died, I got bought back and now I can't die. I intended to ask the Doctor about it, but he vanished. I knew he'd appear here in 2007, so I zapped myself there... or tried to. I got stuck in the 1800s instead. The battery went flat, so I've been here even since.”

 

What a story. Even the short version. The Doctor was shaking his head. “I am so sorry, my good man. I knew some of my future selves would be idiots, but not to this extent. I'm going to have a talk with that infernal poppycock before I go.”

 

“You're leaving?”

 

He had, to didn't he? Even if he wanted to stay, he couldn't put Romana through this, not as her first paradox. He would deal with it later, with a different face.

 

“This paradox is far too unstable for my liking. If the Time Lords were to appear from my timeline... well!” He fixed his hat back atop his head, standing up swiftly. “Let's get going, then, I wouldn't want to worry Romana.”

 

Jack lingered for a moment, watching him carefully, but then got to his feet. “Yeah, this way.”

 

 

 

 

When they returned to the main hall, Romana had been waiting in worried anticipation, and the older Doctor's companions had been abandoned to the other Romana. They were readily informed he had taken her up to his TARDIS, just to settle her.

 

"Good," was all the Doctor had to say to that.

 

Much settling occurred, but not from the Doctor: Romana smoothed her hand across the console, and it reverberated back through the tips of her fingers and down to the ends of her toes. She looked up at the magnificent ceiling, and down through the glass floor, where a hammock hung lazily from the edge of the console platform.

 

Around the outside, all of the pilots seats welcomed her to sit, and the railing asked for her hand, and the console pushed her to choose somewhere, anywhere, in all of time and space.

 

“It's nice,” she told him, which caused his smile to widen.

 

“She chose it,” he offered back. His eyes wrinkled at the sides.

 

“Your TARDIS has always been more independent than it should have been.” A slight smile danced on her face, encouraged by invisible hands and a silent song.

 

“Not that anybody's complaining.”

 

“Of course not.”

 

She flicked an odd lever – the mail system – and the _snap_ of the lever's locking mechanism resonated through her very essence.

 

It was... indescribable, what she was currently feeling. It was like watching the sunrise on that hill which overlooked all of the Citadel, feeling the touch of that first, golden light, as the red grass swayed around you, in rhythm with the song sung by the trees above your head.

 

She swallowed, turning on her heel to face him. He had been watching her, grinning so wildly he might have been the other one.

 

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly, “for before. When they said they were going to try and contact someone, it never really occurred to me it might be you. I didn't... couldn't let myself hope.” She shook her head, and his grin turned to something so full of pain that she moved to embrace him a tight hug.

 

He rested his forehead on her shoulder, just holding on.

 

“Can I come with you again?” she whispered.

 

She felt that ridiculous grin return to his face, and he pulled again to look at her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I would be privileged to have you on-board, Romanadvoratrelundar, but only under one condition.”

 

She eyed him with enough snark he broke into slight laughter, but still, he finished, “Your codename is Fred.”

 

“ _Codename_? Doctor, I-”

 

“Hey! Amelia is Pond, Rory is... also Pond. And I'm Doctor. Codenames, see! So, by majority rule, you have to be Fred.”

 

She looked around. “What majority?”

 

He just started laughing, again, and she shook her head, the same smile from before returning to touch her face completely. The moment slowly faded off into time, and silence filled the console room, until Romana just sighed.

 

The Doctor swallowed.

 

“There's something you should know,” she said softly, her face contorted with a mixture of emotions, namely respect and sympathy. “Your brother, Braxiatel, he...” She swallowed, too. “He knew something big would happen. He had measures in case it would... get out of hand. We need to locate his Collection. I have the key.”

 

Anger crossed his face very briefly, but she was proud that he so quickly converted it to a sad smile. “Of course he wouldn't tell _me_.”

 

“He located it outside of N-Space long, long ago so the Time Lords wouldn't find it. There's a chance it's still there.”

 

“Do you know what's in it?”

 

She shook her head. “I don't even know exactly where it is, he didn't tell me. It...” Fire flashed from behind her eyes. “It... happened so fast. I barely made it out.”

 

“Romana, you don't have to-”

 

“No, I... I need to. It's been... years.”

 

He looked uncomfortable. “In the rift?”

 

“I don't know. It _felt_ like years.”

 

No, he wasn't uncomfortable. He was sad. For her. There was nothing but pity in his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Romana.”

 

Oh Rassilon, she wanted to cry again. “The Moment, we knew you were going to use it, but...” She paused, closing her eyes. “I needed to be sure. The rift... It was the only way, but we only had four pilots. We opened it, and I fell. Brax... he...”

 

“It's okay, Romana,” he said, ever so gently, so she stopped. He lifted her face to look at her, his fingers placed delicately on her chin. “We did it. _You_ did it. It's over.”

 

She swallowed, and then nodded, and he released her chin, looking her over. “We'll find his Collection, Romana. We'll do it, together.”

 

He leaned in to hug her again, but they were disturbed by a loud knock at the door, in the rhythm of Beethoven's ninth symphony.

 

“The other one?” she asked him gently, and he just nodded, not bothering to hide the roll of his eyes.

 

As soon as he opened the doors, he pushed past him, moving inside. “My TARDIS is gone!” Herself followed inside, and they locked eyes immediately. “My TARDIS. Is. Gone!”

 

“Gone?” The eleventh Doctor had shut the doors, and had followed his younger self up to the console, where he had sat down on one of the seats.

 

“Yes!”

 

“I didn't take it.”

 

In return, he received an unimpressed raise of an eyebrow.

 

“Ah, I'll, um... check the scanners.” He circled the console to the monitor, and Romana, the older one, joined him.

 

“Well?” The younger one prompted.

 

The eleventh one replied, “This paradox is an energy all-you-can eat buffet! Easy to locate. Easier to track. She might have used the Eye of Harmony to get herself out of harm's way. Whatever the 'harm' might be.”

 

The fourth Doctor was silent for a moment, having shared a glance with his companion, and then sighed, rubbing his thumb across his forehead. “Eleven, I'll bet you this bag of jellybabies it's the Black Guardian.”

 

“Wouldn't that be a throwback, eh, Romana?” He nudged her with his elbow, and she shook her head. The younger Doctor was looking at him, too, like he was stupid. “Well, ah... okay. I mean, old times. You know? But, um, there's... yeah, nothing on the scanners to suggest-”

 

The younger one jumped up from his seat, surprising Romana next to him. “Then you stay here and pretend to be productive! I'll go have a look around, perhaps spring a trap; it would certainly be more fun than the rest of today.” He stormed down the stairs, pulled open the door, and left it with a slam. His Romana followed him.

 

The older one blinked after him.

 

 

 

She stepped outside and it reminded her of that tiny little room, with the other her, minus the water. It was just flames and smoke. Her Doctor was _burning_.

 

“Is there something you're meaning to tell me?” she pressed, stepping forward. He was looking at where his TARDIS had been, his expression unreadable.

 

“No.”

 

She sighed, moving to stand next to him, watching the empty space. “You think I haven't figured it out, too? Something's happened. To Gallifrey, yes? The Time Lords?”

 

The Doctor nodded, his eyes cast downwards. “They're gone. All gone, erased from time. All gone, Romana.” His voice was trembling, and she wanted to grab his hand, but they were clenched into fists at his sides. “I'm so sorry, my dear Romana, I'm so sorry...”

 

He was suddenly hugging her, with so much force he nearly knocked her over, had he not been holding her so tightly. “You're wonderful, Romana,” he told her. “Never forget that. Please.”

 

“You are, too,” she replied, winded, and lost on what else she could say, or think.

 

The Time Lords...

 

Gone?

 

Her Doctor released her, meeting her eyes. She smiled sadly at him. _No,_ she thought,  _Not all of them._

 

Her Doctor's grin returned at her smile. “Well, we ought to find the old girl. We wouldn't want to worry K9,” he said, taking a look around, his eyes settling on the space his TARDIS had been occupying prior to their excursion downstairs.

 

Oh, she did wish they'd never set foot on that elevator. But just like that, with the familiarity of her Doctor's toothy grin, all of her worries had been dissipated. It wasn't healthy to pretend, or to ignore the foreknowledge which now plagued them, but it needed to be done when the timing was right. She couldn't think on it, she wouldn't let herself, not now.

 

Her Doctor was talking away, now looking at the other Doctor's TARDIS, “Maybe my stupid future self isn't as useless as he appears to be.”

 

“Now there's a thought,” Romana returned, her mouth moving to its own agenda; she was staring at the other TARDIS, wondering what kind of secrets it held about the future of the Doctor, and the future of Gallifrey–

 

“Yes,” the Doctor replied, the grin having morphed into something of amusement. “Let's hope he's found something.”

 

He moved, and so did she, still staring. He knocked, this time using the fifth symphony. Herself answered, looking pleased when she observed the Doctor in front of her. She gave her a slight nod as she walked through the brilliantly blue doors, and shut them behind them.

 

“Ah!” the eleventh one exclaimed, from beside the console. He was turning the dials on the side of the monitor, his ear pressed to the screen. “You know, I completely forgot-” He removed his ear from the monitor, and used his sonic screwdriver instead. The screen was showing static, but it flicked at the green touch of the screwdriver. “-about the camera footage. I don't know how I survived this long without you, Romana.” He looked at her, but she didn't smile – she couldn't.

 

“And?” her Doctor prompted, having joined him at the monitor. Herself was behind them, and flicked a switch to her left, and the console flickered into life. The other Doctor grinned at the monitor, not having noticed herself's intervention.

 

“There we are!” He spun on his heel, almost colliding with himself, but he straightened, adjusting his jacket at the same time. “Your culprit is the Weeping Angels.” He jerked a thumb to the console, and the other Doctor looked, squinting at the screen.

 

Romana moved closer.

 

Indeed, it was their TARDIS on the screen. It stood out gloriously against the stark grey of the pavement, but then a frame later, it had vanished. The Doctor paused it, and pointed to the corner of the tiny screen – there was the edge of a wing, etched into stone. Her Doctor was frowning, creasing deep lines on his forehead, and he turned to look at his future self.

 

“And the Black Guardian?”

 

“It'd explain the convenient paradox. It generates a lot of potential energy, with the changing timelines and all.”

 

“You don't remember this encounter, though.”

 

“No,” the other one confirmed. “Something more sinister is at work here, I can feel it. And it's so exciting! It's been a long while since we've had some real excitement in this TARDIS.”

 

“And it's been a while since I've _seen_ my TARDIS.”

 

The other one scratched his neck, and Romana rolled her eyes, rubbing her forehead. “About that...”

 

Her Doctor stared at him for a few, long moments, and then gave a weary sigh.

 

“Eleven...” he said. “We should at least get the others to safety, before this threat properly presents itself-” His eyes cast over Romana, both of them, and slowly, back to the other Doctor, “-and somebody gets hurt. If I remember correctly – which I do – Weeping Angels are quite dangerous, even without the Black Guardian.”

 

The other one was looking at him, too, his mouth hanging open. It appeared it took much restraint for her Doctor not to reach out and close his jaw for him. “Go on, then,” he said instead, “We can't put everyone down there on that lift.”

 

The other Doctor nodded vigorously, “Yes, right!” He spun around, again, and went to start the dematerialization sequence.

 


	3. Chapter 3

All of the humans which did not belong to the eleventh Doctor had quickly marveled at the sheer size of the console room. Romana, the older one, had to smile.

 

Only the man in the suit, Ianto, was grinning, in a perfect reflection of the eleventh Doctor. In his bowtie, he stood proudly up at the console, one hand resting on the handbrake, and the other placed fondly on the edge of the control panels.

 

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” he asked anybody who was listening. “Once you get over the whole 'bigger on the inside' business, it's all quite good fun. And she'll keep you lot safe. Safer than that base, hidden entrance or no.”

 

The Fact shot him a look.

 

“How does it work?” Toshiko approached the console, her eyes wide in amazement. “It has to be such advanced technology! A compression matrix? Temporal physics? _Temporal universal_ compression? No, don't tell me–” She looked closely at the controls, touching the console as if it would break under her fingertips.

 

The eleventh Doctor grinned over Tosh's bowed head, at Romana, the older one. She was at the door, having escorted the occupants of the Torchwood base on board.

 

“Romana, if you would?” he asked.

 

She closed the doors, and the click of the locking mechanism was a most welcomed sound to her ears. She quickly moved to join him back the console. “You might want to hold on,” she offhandedly suggested to Gwen on her way up the stairs.

 

The Doctor was addressing Tosh, “You'll like this bit.” He guided her hand to a lever, which he pushed upwards. “Hold that there, no matter what happens.”

 

“And hold on,” Romana added, holding onto the console herself.

 

“Here we go!”

 

He threw up a lever here, there, and pressed every fourth button above Tosh's hands on the large lever. The ship quickly reeled into flight, shaking violently. In the chaos, Romana, the older one, reached across the console to turn on the stabilisers.

 

She eyed him, one eyebrow cocked in challenge. “ _Still_? After all this time?”

 

He grinned in return, flipping a switch to his right and pushing buttons to his left in quick succession, both at the same time. “It makes it more fun!”

 

She rolled her eyes, gripping the console tightly. The room shook and somebody shouted, “Blimey!” over the wonderful sound of the time rotor, which left the Doctor, the eleventh one, yelling back, “Turbulence!” while beaming.

 

With the flip of additional switch, the room lurched to a stop. It was quiet. Toshiko released the lever with an audible snap.

 

“Where are we?” The fourth Doctor's voice cut cleanly through the silence, piercing it like a knife. He had kept his seat during that cacophony of flight work, which was quite a feat.

 

“Stek,” the older one provided, still looking at the console. He had pulled over the monitor, and was fiddling with the dials on the side of the screen. “I'm actually quite surprised we made it. Last time I used the randomiser... Yowzah! It must have been eons ago, the old thing even had dust on it. Dust! It's lucky it still works.”

 

“Ah, yes, because your luck is going to outmaneuver the Black Guardian.”

 

“Well, it did remove us from Earth while we think of our next move.”

 

The fourth Doctor gave a lingering sigh. “And _what_ is our next move, Eleven?”

 

A slight pause. “Now, that _is_ a good question...”

 

The fourth Doctor got to his feet, moving to join the older Doctor at the console. Impatience was scrawled across his face. He snatched the monitor from in front of the eleventh Doctor's face, looking at it himself. The older one stepped back, regarding his younger self with a surprised look.

 

Romana watched them, her arms crossed.  _Like children_ , she thought. But she did understand; foreknowledge was never good, especially the imminent destruction of one's planet, where one's family, friends and life resided, renegade or not. But now was not the time to quarrel, not with the Black Guardian on their trail. 

 

If it was him, that was.

 

It was likely, given the fourth Doctor's current timeline, but the deity's involvement made no sense. Why use Weeping Angels, and why take a TARDIS? He couldn't access it or use it. In Eleven's defence, it did make sense to distance themselves from the scene of the crime while they figured something out.

 

If something happened to the fourth Doctor, then much of the Doctor's timeline and future intervention in space-time affairs would be doomed. To whatever advantage that gave the Black Guardian, Romana wasn't sure.

 

She turned to raise these speculations with both of him, but they were arguing, “... if you'd have landed something _useful_ , then perhaps something would have happily presented itself!” The fourth Doctor was saying.

 

“Well, maybe we should have waited back in Cardiff for him to appear and explain himself!”

 

“Yes, let's kindly ask him if he would return my TARDIS! I could offer half a bag of jellybabies, and perhaps throw you in as well!”

 

“I'll just take us back to Earth, then! Is that what you're suggesting, _Doctor?_ ”

 

“You're the older one!”

 

The older Doctor threw his hands in the air, and turned to wipe his face for a moment, but quickly spun back around to face the fourth Doctor. His eyes flashed, and Romana, the younger one, took a step back.

 

“What do you suggest, then? _Gallifrey_?”

 

The fourth Doctor visibly winced. Romana, both of them, moved to intervene, but Eleven continued, “The Black Guardian is dangerous. I've already dealt with him. I know what happens! Do you want some more foreknowledge, Four? Or would you prefer I not tell you who dies and who gets left behind?”

 

The fourth Doctor said nothing, looking at the screen.

 

The eleventh one started again, softer, “I know how you feel, about the War. But you haven't _been_ there yet. You haven't seen the things I saw, or the things we all had to do. Millions were massacred, Four, and we watched it. Over, over and over again.” He swallowed, and Romana reached for him, but he was still looking at the fourth Doctor. “So, please, would you stop criticising me and _help_? I'm trying to keep us all alive.”

 

The fourth Doctor hung his head, looking down at the console. “What do we do, then?” he asked so quietly, Romana barely heard him. “You can't expect us to do everything from here. And...” He hesitated, swallowing, and shook his head. “I don't... I don't know what to do.”

 

Romana, his Romana, put a hand on his shoulder but he didn't move.

 

The eleventh Doctor swallowed, working at his jaw. “I... I think... we need to think in his shoes.” He regarded Four with another look, and then turned to address the room, “Think! Everyone, if you were an evil deity who strove to cause nothing but chaos, where would you stash a TARDIS?”

 

People exchanged glances with one another, frowning, and the Fact replied, “In plain sight.”

 

“No, not the right amount of chaos,” Four challenged. “Probably a trap – oh, no, scratch that. It _has_ to be a trap.”

 

“There would be guards, right?” Amelia Pond raised, from beside her Doctor. Romana hadn't seen her move towards him, but she had placed her hand on top of his, resting on the console.

 

“No, no,” Four disputed again. “Those kinds of plans don't work. They're old, overused, and I can easily outsmart all of them.” He turned to his Romana, talking to her, but still to everyone. “He is always a few steps ahead of us; always changing his plan to compensate for variables. Oh, but that's the beauty of it! He _wanted_ us to overthink it.”

 

Romana, his Romana, was nodding, “Of course. Somewhere obvious, yet the last place we would search.”

 

Four was in deep thought, and all eyes were on him. Silence enveloped the room in a hesitant embrace, and the air tingled as the cogs worked in the Doctor's mind. Beautifully, and wonderfully, the genius (twice) thought, and the TARDIS held her breath in anticipation.

 

“Ah!”

 

Everybody leaned forward. Eleven's eyebrows crept up his forehead.

 

“I know just the place!” The fourth one declared, and took possession of Eleven's TARDIS, sending them into flight.

 

They landed a moment later, much smoother than before, but Romana would not give the Doctor's flying skills _that_ much credit.

 

The fourth Doctor was the first to the door, his scarf flowing behind him. “You'd better stay here, all of you, and no, I don't care if you're professionals. This is almost certainly a trap. And Weeping Angels are dangerous.” He turned his gaze on his companion, the younger Romana, and gave her a gentle smile. “You ought to stay here too Romana, in case something happens. They'll need you.” He shifted his gaze to her, and there was nothing but sadness in his eyes. “Both of you.”

 

Well, it seemed like she wasn't getting a say in this. The eleventh one gave her a nod, affirming the fourth one's requests. She smiled at him in return.

 

While she didn't like being left behind, she had a feeling he would never let her into harm's way again. But, the danger and all that wonderful running was what made travelling with the Doctor, well, travelling with the Doctor. She would have to take this up with him later. She needed to.

 

While she was prepared to cater to him, them being the last Time Lords in time and space, she wasn't ready to be protected. She could take care of herself. And it was that she told him with a pointed look before he turned to leave.

 

“Older me, immortal with the gun, you come with me,” The fourth one commanded, and then disappeared out the door, the others doing as he beckoned.

 

 

 

 

“No abnormal readings,” The eleventh Doctor reported, his eyes cast to his sonic. They were trekking across a scrapyard. Mud began to cling to their boots as they located the fourth Doctor's TARDIS, standing out brilliantly against the rest of the scrap metal surrounding them.

 

“Suspicious,” the fourth Doctor remarked. He took out his own sonic, as well as the key.

 

When he pushed the key into the keyhole, the lock clicked but the fourth Doctor did not push open the door. The locking mechanism was still in place. His TARDIS had not been breached, which was both a relief and extremely terrifying.

 

“Eleven,” he said to his counterpart, who was scanning the side of his TARDIS. The Fact was investigating the pile of scrap metal nearby, the barrel of his gun raised to the sky. “It's still locked.”

 

“Good. No angels inside, then. Yes, definitely good!”

 

“Yes... but then, where are the angels?” He made a point of looking around, gesturing to the empty scrapyard, par the two TARDIS parked in great contrast against the scrap.

 

The older Doctor stopped scanning, his brow furrowing. “Ah, right,” he said. He looked around the side of the TARDIS. “No angels here. Or over there. Yep, definitely no angels. This has set such a low standard for traps, I'm disappointed.”

 

Or, perhaps they were inside. That could mean many things. One, that the angels had somehow managed to trip the impenetrable lock. Two, that the Black Guardian had somehow managed to trip the impenetrable lock. Three, that the Black Guardian had a key. Four, this was a very disappointing trap.

 

“Maybe we ought to look inside,” Four suggested, finally.

 

Eleven was still investigating behind the TARDIS, now with Jack. Four made a mental note to himself, timelines be damned–Don't be such an idiot in your eleventh incarnation, Doctor. For Rassilon's sake.

 

He pushed open the door and removed the key from the key hole, stuffing it back into his pocket. Then, he looked inside, craning his neck around the door.

 

No guards. No trap.

 

Definitely suspicious.

 

Hesitantly, he stepped inside. The familiarity of the console room calmed him on sight, yet, the hairs on the back of his neck still stood on end.

 

When he laid his hand comfortingly on the console, the TARDIS hummed. It reverberated deep through his bones, bringing a smile to his face despite everything which had happened since he had arrived here.

 

“It's good to see you too, old girl,” he whispered to her. He checked her scanners, finding nothing abnormal, and checked the flight systems afterwards. No flights had been logged, so she must have been transported by the angels or the Black Guardian.

 

He checked the handbrake, too, and that's when a prick of worry crept up his spine. It was from the TARDIS.

 

“What is it, dear? Is it Eleven? Is he making a fool of us again?” He was about to pull open the external scanner when a gust of wind disturbed the back of his coat, behind him.

 

Where he couldn't see. Where the door was.

 

His fingers froze on the dials of the scanner. A hand crept around his neck from where he couldn't see, and then suddenly, turned to cold stone. Now, it would be a wonder if he could regenerate from a broken neck.

 

But who was watching the angel?

 

“Doc– shit– Doctor!”

 

He never thought he'd be so thankful to see the Fact. Well. Hear him. He had his eyes fixed on the time rotor, trying not to move.

 

He had an awful feeling there was nothing the eleventh Doctor could do. Had it been another part of him the angel had hold of, perhaps, but not when the angel had its stone hand encased, literally, around his neck. Regeneration now would have unthinkable consequences. He was almost certain now wasn't the time. It didn't feel right. Plus, his idiot of a future self probably would have managed to spoil it by now, had it been today.

 

Oh, he hadn't even said goodbye to Romana...

 

Footsteps approached, quickly, and then Eleven appeared in his peripheral vision. His eyes looked as if they were going to bulge out of his head any moment. Yet, he was a reassuring appearance– if he was still here and not non-existent, then it couldn't end _that_ badly, could it?

 

Eleven began scanning him with his sonic screwdriver. The usually welcome buzzing sounded like a hive of wasps in Four's ears.

 

“Eleven, there's nothing you can do,” he croaked.

 

“No no no no, this isn't right! No! There's got to be–”

 

“Shut up for a moment, you imbecile. I have a plan.”

 

“I'm all ears,” the Fact said from behind him. No doubt, he had his gun trained on the angel. Eleven didn't say anything, and that sent a bubble of anger through Four's being. He truly did hope not all of his future selves were _this_ useless...

 

“Look away,” he uttered, his brilliant plan.

 

“I'm sorry, _what_?” Now he spoke, spluttering. “Look _away_?”

 

“Think for a moment, you idiot. The Black Guardian wouldn't have us killed, that would end the paradox and alas, the Weeping Angels. He is planning something, and this–” He struggled a little, but the stone hand was unforgiving. “–it's all part of his plan, whatever that may be. You know what lengths he will go to, Eleven, to get the Key to Time.”

 

After a moment, the eleventh Doctor said, hesitantly, “Okay.”

 

“Do it.” He closed his eyes. _Oh Romana, I'm sorry..._

 

The darkness from behind his lids turned to searing white, white turned to air, then quickly to dark, where he stumbled and landed roughly on hard stone. He quickly took in a big gulp of air.

 

It was dark here.

 

No, wait a moment–

 

He opened his eyes and discovered he was looking at the blue, earthly sky and his hard stone was hard pavement, cracked English pavement.

 

Now confused, he picked himself up off the ground and blinked at his surroundings. It was a simple, English street. Houses aligned the street, shadowed by cars on the roadside, both of which cast a shadow across the street. Late afternoon, then.

 

He dusted off his coat and picked a leaf out of his scarf, discarding it to the ground. This angel seemed to have landed him in one of those idyllic neighbourhoods from those awful human soap operas. Not that he watched them, of course. Never. It was all Romana. Completely, all Romana's fault.

 

He really hoped that when Eleven told her he'd been zapped off to Rassilon knows where, he was gentle about it.

 

He gave a sigh, looking around. It would be wise to try and find his way back. There hadn't been anybody around to witness his sudden appearance, either, which was interesting. Usually, the Black Guardian liked an audience.

 

This idyllic neighbourhood was definitely not an audience. So, there had to be something interesting here. Why else would the angel send him? And most notoriously, _not_ kill him?

 

He set off walking, still wary, but it was hard not to enjoy a walk on a nice day. The sun was a welcome heat on the back of his un-choked neck, as well as the slight breeze that disturbed his curls every so often. All the while, his thoughts were racing.

 

Something sinister was at work, he was sure of it.

 

And while he thought, he almost walked into a group of children  (well, _grown_ children, but children nevertheless) crossing the street together.

 

“Oh, pardon me!” he excused himself, and they gave him a look and continued walking. Then, a thought occurred to him, “I mean, pardon me,” He caught up with them. “I seem to have gotten lost. You couldn't tell me where I am, could you? Maybe as the date as we–”

 

It was here, in the corner of his eye, he saw an elderly man walk out of the house to his left. A woman followed him. Normally, it wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, except, these were anything but ordinary people. It was too coincidental to be a coincidence.

 

“Brigadier! Sarah!”

 

The children were now forgotten. He moved past them, up to the house, and took the steps two at a time to get to his literally old friends. It would probably be socially unacceptable for him to point that out, however.

 

“Doctor?” they both said, in unison, staring.

 

Sarah's face quickly spread into a wide grin, approaching him. “What are you _doing_ here?” She reached out and adjusted the scarf around his neck. “Oh, look at you... You're so young. Young enough, you definitely shouldn't be here, should you? What's going on?”

 

“Oh, my Sarah Jane, you were always too good,” he said, having mirrored her grin. “If you would like the short version–” He looked up, ensuring the Brigadier was listening, also. “I followed a distress call which created a paradox, that lead me to meeting myself in my eleventh incarnation, and also Torchwood and a Time Lady that is a future incarnation of my current assistant Romana.” He paused to take a breath. “My TARDIS was stolen by Weeping Angels, but I found it again but _then_ I was sent here by an angel which was supposed to kill me, but didn't, so it's probably a complicated plot from the Black Guardian. Alas, I would really like to know what's going on, too. There has to be something going on here, is there anything interesting going on? Oh, but look at you!” 

 

He quickly gave Sarah a hug, he couldn't stop himself. His friends! It was such a beautiful coincidence, oh yes,  _wonderful!_

 

“Oh Rassilon, Brigadier, look at that beard!” He released Sarah, only to approach the Brigadier, giving him a firm, exaggerated handshake. “I thought the moustache was bad. Oh, but it is wonderful to see you, Brigadier, truly!”

 

The Brigadier sighed, still having his hand shaken vigorously. “I'm glad to see you too, Doctor.”

 

“But oh my, Doctor, are you alright? That trip did sound like an unpleasant one.”

 

The Doctor tried not to look insulted. “Of course I'm alright! I'm always alright, you know that.” He looked between his two friends, both still standing out of the front of the house. Sarah Jane's house, he guessed. “Oh, but this is fantastic! Far, far, _far_ too creative for the Black Guardian. Something big is going on, I just know it!”

 

“The Black Guardian?” The Brigadier adjusted himself on his cane, regarding the Doctor with an interested look. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

 

“Ah, yes. The Black Guardian. Evil entity, wants the universe to fall into eternal chaos. Lots of death and destruction. I stop him, in the future.” The Doctor answered. “I must have told you about it sometime, another me.”

 

The Brigadier gave a slow nod and the Doctor looked back at Sarah. “There isn't a way I could and contract the TARDIS, is there?” he asked her.

 

The older him was likely gaping at empty space right now, wondering if his past was dead and gone. It was an amusing thought.

 

“Oh, and before I forget–” He opened his mouth again, before Sarah could reply. “–did anything interesting, important or radioactive happen around here? Nothing falling out of the sky? Nobody falling over on the pavement and hitting their heads?”

 

Sarah Jane shook her head. “No, not that I can recall. I would have been notified, after all.”

 

That's his Sarah, being kept in the loop. Oh, how proud he was! He did wonder how she fended on her own, after she dropped him off. Did he come to see her again? It probably wasn't socially acceptable to ask that, either.

 

“And actually, there maybe be a way to contact the TARDIS,” she added, adding to his good mood. She shared a look with the Brigadier. “Did you still want to get back, Brigadier? I know Kate was asking for you.”

 

The man shook his head, smiling. “And miss the Doctor getting himself into trouble?” He glanced at the Doctor in challenge. He grinned in return. “Never.”

 

Sarah Jane led them back into the house.

 

 

 

Back in the fourth's Doctor TARDIS, it had only been a few moments since the Doctor had disappeared when the console burst into life. Lights flashed, the time rotor groaned and the communications monitor flickered to life.

 

“ _Hello_!” Four's voice, carried over albeit slightly mechanically, echoed across the stark white console room.

 

The Doctor, the eleventh one, nearly tripped over himself getting to the console.

 

_He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead._

 

The communications panel was working when he reached it, showing a secure channel connection originating from a 'Bannerman Rd' from a computer under the name 'MR SMITH'. There were no visuals, just the audio.

 

“Hi!” The Doctor returned, far more enthusiastically than he felt. “No broken necks? No more Weeping Angels?”

 

Jack was also leaning over the monitor, grinning.

 

“ _As far as I can tell, necks are intact_.” The Doctor could _hear_ the grin in the fourth Doctor's voice as he continued, “ _Do you know where the angel sent me? You'll never guess, Eleven, not in all of your incarnations!_ ”

 

He paused for a moment. It could have been due to a bad connection, or more likely, for dramatic effect.

 

“ _To Sarah Jane and the Brigadier! Though, they're a little bit older than I last remember seeing them last. But it's definitely a coincidental coincidence, isn't it? It's far too creative to be the Black Guardian now, I was thinking before. He wouldn't put timelines at risk like this. The paradox was one thing but I am certain I'm not supposed to be here. It is good, though. I do hope you've been good to our Sarah Jane.”_

 

“I've missed all this time business without you around, Doc,” Jack remarked, shaking his head at the console.

 

The Doctor grinned back at him.

 

Four was talking again, _“Is the angel still there?_ ”

 

Eleven checked, just to be sure. “Nope. It disappeared with you– but Sarah and the Brigadier! Hello! It's me, the Doctor! Another one!”

 

He knew the fourth Doctor was rolling his eyes at him. “ _Now, I ought to ask again now you're here too, so you can hear this. Sarah, Brigadier, has anything strange happened here recently_ ?”

 

“ _No, not at all_ ,” a wonderful voice answered, which bought a grin to Eleven's face. Jack's, too.

 

“ _Did you hear that, Eleven? That angel zapped me somewhere nothing interesting has happened! How inconsiderate! And strange_. _What can we possibly make of that?_ ”

 

Eleven offered, “The Black Guardian certainly can't kill you by boring you to death.”

 

“ _Yes, well, there's that._ ”

 

“ _If I may help, Doctors_ ,” a more mechanical voice began, which was none other than Mr Smith himself. “ _there appears to be unidentified energy readings twelve and a half kilometres southwest of Bannerman Road. They began fluctuating five minutes ago_.”

 

“ _I like the alien computer_ ,” the fourth Doctor said.

 

“ _Mr Smith, a fix_ _on the readings' exact location would be lovely._ ”

 

“ _I'm working on it, Sarah Jane_.”

 

Silence suddenly extended across the communications channel. The Doctor fiddled with the dials to see if he could get visual communications working, just to be able to see the situation in Bannerman Road. It would likely prove amusing, with the fourth Doctor, Sarah Jane Smith and Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart all in the same room, in the wrong timelines.

 

Mr Smith began again, “ _ T _ _ here seems to have been great movement at the centre of the energy readings. I advise caution, Sarah Jane. _ ”

 

“ _She's with me, Mr Smith! There's no such thing as caution! Come on, Sarah Jane, Brigadier. Let's take a look at these energy readings. Eleven, you get back to your TARDIS. Mine will be fine, just make sure the door's locked._ ”

 

“And what do I do–” he asked, but the line was already closed.

 

“Look's like he's off,” Jack remarked with an amused grin.

 

“That one never really did stop,” Eleven replied, running a hand across his forehead. He was still processing the past few minutes.

 

The fourth Doctor, supposedly dead, but actually teleported and through time and space to Bannerman Road, to an older Sarah Jane and the Brigadier. He had been right, this was far too creative to be orchestrated by the Black Guardian. It also required a lot of energy, as timelines were currently a mess, not to mention the paradox.

 

“Right,” he said eventually, looking up from the console. He checked the controls – that the handbreak was on, the flight computer wasn't programmed, and then turned around to move towards the exit. “We need to get back to others.”

 

“Doc, wait.”

 

“What?”

 

“What happened?”

 

Jack was staring at him, leaning against the console, a meaningful look in his eyes. It took the Doctor a moment to realise what he was talking about.

 

“Oh, you mean the regeneration. Timelines are all out of order. You'll find out when you're meant to.” He turned around again, ready to leave.

 

Jack made a sound crossed between a laugh and a sigh. “I know that, but just let me put my mind at ease. Were you alone?”

 

He froze midstep, his breath catching in his throat. Memories suddenly rushed back to him – Davros, the Daleks and Earth. Everybody together again. The metacrisis. Donna. Then, the Master on Christmas Day. Gallifrey's attempted return. Wilfred.

 

“I... yes. I was alone.”

 

Jack didn't say anything for a moment. He sighed again, and moved, but the Doctor didn't turn around. “You know I'm here, right? I don't care about timelines. I wasn't a Time Agent for nothing, plus, it's not that hard to keep a secret. If you need me, Doc, you always know where to find me.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks, Jack.”

 

The immortal man clapped him on the shoulder. “I hope those new companions are treating you well. They seem like good people.”

 

“They are.” He couldn't help the smile which touched his face. He allowed himself to reflect for a moment– on his regeneration, on meeting Amy, and on everything which had happened since absorbing all that radiation for Wilfred Mott. Then he grinned, meeting Jack's gaze, “We really ought to get back to the others. Come on! Allons-y, Captain Jack Harkness!”

 


	4. Chapter 4

The humans and one immortal enjoyed tales of the Doctor and his travels from his two companions, sitting in a group on the stairs.

 

Romana got, “Tell me about the Time War.”

 

Her concentration broke, and wavered onto her younger self instead. She had been trying to decipher this abnormal reading from a minute or so ago, which had been a temporal spike near the group outside.

 

Call her paranoid. And worried.

 

“I can't.” She didn't turn around; she didn't have the energy for this. Not right now, or ever, probably. “You know that.”

 

“I need to know what happened. To him. To me.”

 

Romana closed her eyes, and fire flashed in front of her closed lids.“No, you really don't.”

 

“Every time he looks at me, it's like I'm a plague victim. It's all sad smiles and lingering looks, like he's trying to think of better times. Times before _this._ And I _hate_ it. I don't want him to look at me like that.”

 

Identity crisis wasn't so hard when there's two of you. The future, your future, is just a mouth and two ears away. But then again, so is a lie, a half-truth or the whole truth.

 

Which would it be?

 

Imagine discovering your planet was going to be destroyed, and you played a key role it, _and_ you could do nothing about it. Or, you could do something, _anything_ , and face universal extinction.

 

Death, or more death.

 

It wasn't like Romana had to imagine, though. She knew exactly how the emotions were raging through her younger self, tearing her apart and tucking all of that sympathy and care into a corner in the deepest reaches of her mind.

 

Survival.

 

It took over easily, and so, so brutally.

 

Minimising the damage was all Romana could do right now, until the Doctor could wind his words into an impossible promise and be on his merry way. Probably with a lot of memory wiping.

 

So, which would be it, Romana? Lie, half-truth or the whole truth?

 

She said, “He looks at me like that, too.”

 

“And how does it make you feel?”

 

The emotion was dripping off Romana's voice and into the air, buzzing around their heads like a swarm of angry bees. Romana was very, very glad nobody else in this room was a telepath. Or listening to their conversation.

 

“Like my skin is on fire,” she answered. Romana, behind her, shuddered. She continued, “But that doesn't mean anything, because that's how I look at him, too. Do you really want to ruin that for yourself?”

 

“I just... want to know. Why he's in so much–” Her petite, innocent voice broke into pieces across the floor, reducing it to a whisper, “... why he's in so much _pain_. Can't you feel it, when he walks by?”

 

Romana wasn't equip to deal with this, she really wasn't. “We're all telepaths here, aren't we? And frankly, he's let it get away from him these past few years.”

 

Herself gave a weak laugh. “Yeah, I guess you can say that.”

 

Romana, the older one, gave a long sigh and turned around, finally, to face herself. “Look, I know we can be as stubborn as Rassilon himself, but you don't need to know. It's... awful. The things we did to survive. You'll find out, one day, and I'm so sorry.”

 

She looked thoughtful, but yet wouldn't meet Romana's eyes. “That's what it came down to? Survival?”

 

“Yes, in the end.” Romana's own eyes drifted off to the wall above Romana's head.

 

“What about him? Did he survive?” At that, Romana did meet herself's eyes. “Did you?”

 

Luckily, she didn't have to confront that thought, as the door creaked open, slicing their little telepathic bubble in two, reverting back to the hum of the time rotor and murmur of the group on the stairs.

 

The bees left, and picked up Romana's voice on their way out.

 

She would need to talk about this later, with herself and with the Doctor, both of them. It wasn't a small burden to bear, foreknowledge, especially on the fate of one's planet, family and friends.

 

Right now, they needed to stop the Black Guardian. Whenever there was a moment of peace, like this, when Romana and the Doctor are left to the mercy of their thoughts; perhaps then. But not now. If Romana, the older one, got it her way, then it would be never.

 

The expedition from outside had returned. Yet, Romana had been fairly sure that were _three_ of them that left, not two, like the pair at the door.

 

And quickly, Jack was back with his band of misfits, and the eleventh Doctor was at the console, grinning at Romana, both of them.

 

“Where is he?” the younger one demanded, at once, and the eleventh Doctor's grin faltered.

 

Their conversation from moments ago was contributing nothing positive to this situation, Romana was sure. The more the lost, the less chance you had at surviving.

 

“He's fine,” the Doctor opened with. “He's with Sarah Jane Smith and the Brigadier. Wonderful people! But, ah– he was... sent back. By an angel.”

 

Ah, that was the temporal spike, then.

 

And in the moment it had taken Romana, the older one, to realise the source of her distress earlier, the younger one's face became consumed by anger and fear; she clenched her jaw, creased her forehead, and swallowed thickly.

 

“But he's fine,” the Doctor continued, oblivious. “We spoke with him before we left. He's doing a bit of old fashioned investigating; strange energy readings, nothing serious. Can't really stop him, can you? Funny, though, the angel only sent him back an hour or so. Long enough to come across Sarah and the Brigadier and contact us, just after he was sent.”

 

He disappeared behind the time rotor, around the other side of the console. Romana met herself's eyes this time, which were narrowed.

 

“Don't worry,” she told her. “The worst he could do is destroy all of creation.”

 

“It's not that I'm worried about,” she returned in monotone.

 

Romana was going to say something else, _anything_ , to quell the flames that were licking up Romana's feet, towards her heart, but the Doctor appeared next to them, frowning at the monitor Romana had been using before.

 

“Romana, did you leave this on?” he asked.

 

“I was checking the readings outside while you were gone, just in case,” she replied.

 

She expected a comment about electricity bills in return, but she got, “The video feed, when did you stop watching it?” and it put an edge of fear through her chest, like an icicle.

 

“A few minutes ago,” she told him, and his brow creased. “Why?”

 

The younger Romana was watching him, too, eyes narrowed. The Doctor didn't reply; instead, he tapped the monitor a few times, playing with the settings on the video feed.

 

“Doctor, what is it?” Romana asked, again.

 

He took a moment to reply, “Four's TARDIS. It's moved. It's right next to us.” He gestured to the screen, which showed one side of another police box in that brilliant blue. The box was parked perfectly next to them.

 

The Doctor simply stared at the image, the cogs in his mind working. Romana, twice, shared a glance.

 

Their concern had quickly emanated across the console room, as the Doctor's companions were now also looking at the monitor, behind Romana, both of them. The Torchwood team were at the top of the stairs.

 

“Trouble?” Amy asked her Doctor.

 

“Usually, Pond, but no, I think...” He trailed off. “I think this is something far worse.”

 

Again, the eleventh Doctor tapped the screen, and the door of the police box in the footage opened, only just visible in the video. However, the open door obscured the identity who ever emerged from the TARDIS.

 

Or, whoever had just gained entry to the TARDIS. It was impossible to tell. It was concerning enough somebody had gotten inside Four's TARDIS, let alone managed to move it. The only person who had such knowledge to do that, other than Time Lords, was...

 

“The Black Guardian?” Jack asked, a hand on the holster of his gun.

 

“But that can't be right!” the Doctor exclaimed. “The TARDIS was completely empty. The door is deadlocked!”

 

The younger Romana stepped closer to the screen, squinting at it, while the Doctor initiated a scan for alien technology.

 

“Might have been the angels again,” Jack suggested. “They took the other Doctor; lured us into a trap. Now they can keep the reward – the TARDIS.”

 

“But they couldn't have gotten in!”

 

“Doctor,” the younger Romana suddenly breathed, still looking at the footage. “That's not my Doctor's TARDIS. It's a different one.”

 

Which the scan quickly confirmed, as in fact, there were three TARDIS's in the form of a police box in the scrapyard of I.M Foreman, on this day in 1963.

 

 

 

“I hope this will do.”

 

Sarah Jane patted the old car affectionately, while the Doctor gave it a look of disgust. In his previous incarnations, perhaps, but primitive travel? Now?

 

“It will do just fine, Sarah, thank you. I call shotgun!” he told his two old friends, over his shoulder as he leapt into the passenger seat.

 

The Brigadier simply just sighed, while Sarah laughed.

 

A few moments later, after Sarah had helped the Brigadier into the car, they were off. Mr Smith had given them directions to the location of the readings, which Sarah said she knew a few shortcuts for.

 

“I'm glad we won't be cooped up in here for too much longer, then,” the Brigadier told her in return, tapping the head of his cane, which was resting on his knee.

 

“I could throw you into the time constentulator, Brigadier,” the Doctor offered. “Turned a Sontaran into a baby once. An actual baby. It was hilarious.”

 

Though, he did remember having an old body, once. It wasn't fun or practical, especially with the amount of running he had to do nowadays.

 

“I think I'll be alright, thank you, Doctor,” the Brigadier replied, though there was a slight smile on his face.

 

The Brigadier looked so old now, even if he still had the spirit of the man who almost killed him so long ago. Longer, for the old man. And he wouldn't live for much longer. His body would give in, like all human bodies do.

 

And Time Lords, eventually, too, after all of their twelve faces. He had quite a while before he had to worry about that.

 

Eleven didn't.

 

How long had Eleven lived for? How much had he seen? How much death; how much life? Good and evil?

 

Even he, in his fourth incarnation, had seen the deaths of galaxies, suns and planets. Sometimes at his hands, sometimes at the fault of others. He'd also seen the birth of new systems, stars and moons. He'd forged alliances, friendships and bought families together, and torn them apart.

 

To him, it weighed down his shoulders, and sometimes made stepping out of the door of the TARDIS impossible. He couldn't imagine how Eleven felt. He couldn't. With Gallifrey...

 

“Are we there yet?” he asked Sarah, to make up for the silence. Nobody was saying anything. Perhaps they were all reflecting on morality, like he was. He shouldn't let himself do that. He's too old for that.

 

Does it keep Eleven awake at night?

 

“Almost,” Sarah Jane answered.

 

“Good,” the Doctor said.

 

He spent the rest of the trip staring out the window, at the passing buildings, which eventually melted into countryside; green, as far as the eye could see.

 

They pulled up at the base of a hill, where the wind played with the threads of green grass, like it was a game. The same wind pulled at the Doctor's hair, Sarah's jacket and tried to topple the Brigadier, once they were out of the car.

 

Of course, the wind wasn't quite sure what to do with the still-smoking crater halfway up the hill. There was a slight glow coming from the centre of the hole, which painted patterns on the rising smoke.

 

“Oh,” Sarah Jane summarised it, quite eloquently. “What could have made such a big crater?”

 

The Brigadier began to approach, frowning, but the Doctor stopped him. “Wait for a moment. I have a feeling...” He stuck a finger in his mouth, and then held it up. He frowned, looking up at the sky, and then spun around in a circle once. “Yes, as I suspected. It's from Gallifrey.”

 

Behind him, Sarah and the Brigadier blinked.

 

“My timestream, too. I wonder what they're doing this far from their own timeline,” he said, and then turned his attention to the crater. “Now, let's have a look at you, shall we?”

 

He was talking to himself, currently for his own benefit. This was quite the mystery.

 

He stepped into the crater. The earth was loose under his shoes, radiating with untold power. And in the centre, there was a small rock which had been previously obscured by the smoke rising from the crater. It was no larger than the palm of the Doctor's hand, and it was glowing ever so slightly.

 

Grinning, he crouched down to examine it.

 

“What is it?” Sarah Jane called, also stepping into the crater, but the Doctor held up a hand to stop her. His attention was still on the rock.

 

He spoke to the small stone, “Oh my, how did you manage to get here? You must be terribly homesick. No, don't tell me, you're the reason I was sent here, right?”

 

Out of his pocket, he took a handkerchief and picked up the small rock. He folded it into the handkerchief neatly, then put it into his pocket, smiling to himself.

 

Sarah Jane was still watching, on the edge of the crater, and the Brigadier was still standing on the side, leaning heavily on his cane.

 

The Doctor straightened up. “Let's go, I need to contact my older self at once,” he told them.

 

Promptly, he helped Sarah out of the crater and then, helped both of his old friends back towards the car.

 

Sarah Jane asked on the way, “What is it, Doctor? I know you love a mystery, but you do owe me, I drove you here.”

 

“Primitively,” he added.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“It's a rock,” he told her. “There, now you know.”

 

“A very small rock for the sizable crater,” the Brigadier observed. “And did you take a moment to taste the air? It was sulphuric.” He stopped the Doctor, just as they reached the car. “What is it, Doctor? And is it dangerous?”

 

Sarah Jane threw a look over her shoulder, at the crater.

 

“No, Brigadier, it is not. It's simply a stone. From Gallifrey. It has unique... stoning... abilities...”

 

The Brigadier rolled his eyes. “So it's a weapon.”

 

“No!”

 

“Then tell me what it is.”

 

Sarah Jane turned her attention back to the Doctor, so that both of his old friends were staring at him.

 

The Doctor sighed.

 

“It's called the Stone of Rassilon. And yes, I know it sounds scary, but believe it or not, not everything ending with 'of Rassilon' is a weapon. It's a relic. It was one of the first stones used in construction on Gallifrey.”

 

“What does it do?” The Brigadier pressed.

 

“Nothing.”

 

A pause, as his two friends continued to stare at him. The Doctor sighed again.

 

“It's millennia old. Time is drawn to it. It stores memories, royal ones. Hence the 'of Rassilon',” he explained. “And it's dangerous- _w_ _ell._ More... unpredictable, if you try to touch it. Sometimes. It's only meant for the hands of royalty. And it's not important. The less you know, my friends, the less danger you are in.”

 

“From what?” Sarah Jane asked, frowning, glancing at the Doctor's pocket.

 

“From whoever sent me to retrieve this. It's why I was sent back in time by the angel, to find this stone for someone. It had a less chance of harming me, as I am both a Time Lord and was previously Lord President of Gallifrey.”

 

The Brigadier nodded slowly. “Of course you were,” he said.

 

“What less did you expect of me, Brigadier?” The Doctor grinned, but it faded quickly. “We need to go, I must contact my older self about this. Come on.”

 

They were back on the road shortly.

 

“Drive carefully,” he told Sarah. “Brigadier, keep an eye on our surroundings. Front, back, left and right. If you see anything fishy, you tell me. More importantly, if you see an angel statue, keep your eyes on it, no matter what happens. They're faster than the car, anyway.”

 

Oh, how he would kill to know the plan. If it was the Black Guardian, then he would kill some, and then more. The dark guardian was grand, and so were his plans. They rivalled the Doctor's own.

 

They drove on, back to Bannerman Road.


	5. Chapter 5

In the footage, the door closed to reveal two people. First, an older man who was examining their TARDIS with his hands on his lapels, and second, a young woman who was looking directly at the camera.

 

It didn't take Romana, the older one, long to figure out who it was, considering her affiliation with the Doctor's history, and the look currently on his face; his jaw was slack, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted.

 

It made him look old.

 

Very old, if you took his youthful face into your hands and felt the smoothness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

 

“It's a threat,” he breathed, still looking at the monitor. “My whole life. It's right there,” He tapped the screen with a finger, covering the face of himself, his first self. “The Black Guardian could take it right now. And...” he trailed off, and his hand fell back onto the console. “And he's threatening her.”

 

“Who is she?” Amy leaned in close, so that her chin was almost resting atop his shoulder. “A companion?”

 

“My granddaughter.” The Doctor's voice was quiet. “Susan.”

 

Amy reeled around to look at him. “A granddaughter,” she repeated, incredulously. “A granddaughter. A _granddaughter?_ ” She looked him up and down, once, twice, and said, “You never told me you had kids.”

 

From across the console, the Fact gave the Doctor a smile that made Romana's heart ache.

 

“You _do_ need kids to have a granddaughter, Pond,” he pointed out in return.

 

On the screen, the first Doctor and Susan disappeared back into the TARDIS. The Doctor's gaze lingered on the screen, so Romana, the older one, pushed it away, leaning on the console next to him.

 

“That's your first arrival on Earth, isn't it?” she queried.

 

He nodded.

 

She continued, “And the Black Guardian bought us here on purpose, to send Four back and to show you this.”

 

“A threat,” he said.

 

“A threat,” Romana echoed, “against your future. And Susan.”

 

“What bothers me,” Romana, the younger one, interjected, on the other side of the Doctor, “is that we don't know why he's threatening you. He hasn't presented his plan yet, not for this bit. We know he wants the Key To Time–”

 

“This couldn't be about the key,” the Doctor returned. “Bringing us all together, sustaining this paradox; that wouldn't add up. It has to be something different.”

 

The younger Romana shook her head. “It's scattered across time and space. If he is able to control you, and my Doctor, then he can use you to help him find it. It makes sense.”

 

The Doctor objected, “It doesn't–” 

 

“You're all speaking gibberish, I hope you know that.” Torchwood's Owen Harper interrupted. “You might be Time Kings, or whatever, but you're still on Earth. And if this guardian guy is making threats on this soil, then we get a say in it, too.”

 

The younger Romana stepped away from the console, her brow creased in annoyance. “First, it's Time  _Lords_ –”

 

“Owen's right,” Gwen added. “I know you're supposed to be Jack's Doctor, and believe me he does a _wonderful_ job of talking you up, but I didn't sign up to sit here and listen to you talk.”

 

Jack quickly stepped in front of them both, while the two Time Ladies at the console glared and the one Time Lord was smiling.

 

“What they're trying to say,” he said, “is that we all work as a team here, usually. And that you're not... the _best_ at promoting team spirit, Doctor.”

 

Amy jumped in, “He's fine! It's not like your team has done much to help, anyway. It's only been you!”

 

There was a moment, just after Amy spoke, where the whole room was silent. Then, it quickly broke out:

 

“We've been ignored–!”

 

“You're his companion–”

 

“All this crap about time–”

 

“They're just _humans–_ ”

 

while Jack put his face into his hand, and the Doctor's smile grew as everybody quarrelled. 

 

Then, the whole console room shook, the time rotor groaned and the lights flickered once, twice and then returned to normal.  It quickly went quiet, and t he Doctor's grin slid off his face.

 

“What on earth was that?” Gwen exclaimed.

 

Romana, both of them, and the Doctor had quickly began pressing buttons on the console, so that various screens appeared on the monitor.

 

“The first me is trying to dematerialise,” he said, pooling over the data on the screen.

 

“Take off,” the older Romana translated.

 

“His TARDIS can't handle the paradox. It's not a part of the original one, with me and Four.” He continued pressing buttons, while Torchwood and his companions watched, without complaint. “And my guess is all the potential energy the angels are generating isn't helping. She's getting confused– and overwhelmed.”

 

“He's stopped.” Romana, both of them, was still watching the monitor.

 

“We can't dematerialise either,” the Doctor said, as he flipped a lever, and nothing happened. “She's probably got indigestion, with the third TARDIS coming along. We'll have to give her a bit.”

 

“Indigestion,” Gwen repeated, in a deadpan. “Your ship gets _indigestion._ Of course it does.”

 

“Well, while we're stuck here, why don't we sort out this misunderstanding?” Owen Harper directed his attention back towards the Doctor, who was affectionately stroking the time rotor. “You keep shoving us out the way. Which is too bad, mate, because we're here to help. It's what we do.”

 

The Doctor gave a sigh, and stepped away from the console. “You're good at blasting holes in the fabric of spacetime, too, and sucking people through to the Void,” he said. Owen squared his shoulders, mouth open for retort– “ And,” the Doctor continued, “you're also good at stopping Abbadon from devouring London.”

 

Jack's gaze locked with the Doctor's. “You know about that.”

 

A smile ghosted across the Doctor's face. “And saving lives; stopping aliens, when I'm not there. I know that's what you do. You're very good at it.”

 

Across the console, the four people behind Jack stood up a little straighter.

 

“But you do it in the confines of the Earth. As humans. Not like me, or Romana, or my companions,” he continued. “What we're doing now– we're messing with the laws of time and space. Which is very, very, _very_ bad. It's not _human_. And if you don't know what we're dealing with, with all this 'gibberish', then it's not a good idea for you to be helping.”

 

“So _tell us_ what we're dealing with,” Owen pressed. “There's some guardian guy, he wants a key and he's trying to manipulate you to get it. Right? Yeah. Awesome. Let's go. We can do this.”

 

“What the Doctor's trying to say–” Romana, the older one, started.

 

“No, Romana, it's okay,” Jack said. He turned to his team, and Romana watched as Owen's face darkened. “I can't let any of you get hurt. You're my responsibility, not the Doctor's. And he's right. None of you know what you're dealing with, so it's better if you sit this one out, but, somewhere where you can help.”

 

“Jack–” Gwen tried.

 

“Hear me out,” he replied. “Stay on Earth, in the Hub.” He called over his shoulder, to the Doctor, “This Black Guardian is sure to leave traces, right? Weird disturbances, alien sightings, increased rift activity, stuff like that?”

 

“He doesn't like to go unnoticed,” the Doctor confirmed.

 

“We need somebody to deal with all that, so nobody panics while we take care of the big guy. Because you're right, Owen, this is our turf. You have to show him that he can't control us. So, don't let the civilians panic, and keep in contact with the government and UNIT. Sort this out, but from underground.”

 

Owen worked at his jaw, while the rest of the team were nodding slowly, their eyes on Jack. Owen's flicked to the Doctor.

 

Jack continued, “Thank you.” He gave them a nod, and then his mouth spread into a grin. “Torchwood: Defenders of the Earth. Has a nice ring to it. You guys should get jackets.”

 

Amusement touched all of their faces, and Owen looked back at Jack. Romana turned her attention to the Doctor, who had been watching the exchange.

 

“He's a good man,” he told Romana, both of them, and his companions quietly, while Jack hugged each of his team members.

 

“He used to travel with you, didn't he?” Rory was watching the group, too.

 

Owen gave Jack a mock salute, instead of a hug, and Jack saluted back, properly.

 

The Doctor gave a little nod, looking away, to Rory. “I did that to him,” he said. “Turned him into that.”

 

“A fixed point?” Romana, the older one, frowned at him, and the corner of her eye, she saw the first Doctor and Susan emerge from the TARDIS on the monitor.

 

“No,” the Doctor replied. “A soldier.”

 

When she glanced back at the screen, instead of the first Doctor and Susan, there was a stone angel frozen in time, following after them both.

 

“Doctor,” she urged, eyes fixed on the screen.

 

“What? That's what I did to him–”

 

“No, Doctor, _the screen_.”

 

A pause. “Oh.”

 

Romana wanted to roll her eyes.

 

A breeze tickled her neck as the Doctor suddenly raced past, his hands scrambling across the console, trying to find purchase in the machine. He obviously still couldn't get her to work, to materialise the TARDIS around himself and Susan.

 

“Amy, Rory!” he barked instead, still working on the console. “Get outside. Watch the angel! I need to get the TARDIS working. Romana, go with them, get me back here. Quickly!”

 

She shook her head. “Doctor, I need to watch–”

 

The door creaked open, on the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

 

“Not you,” he replied. “The other one. Help me with this.” He had his hands on the console, fiddling with dials and pressing buttons. He shouted over his shoulder, “And somebody find me a hammer!”

 

Amy came into the view of the camera outside, so Romana quickly switched off the display and got to work.

 

 

 

Amy and Rory watched the angel, while Romana, the younger one, trekked on ahead, following the footsteps imprinted into the dirty ground of the scrapyard.

 

“Be careful!” Amy shouted to her, around the wind which had suddenly picked up, ripping at her bright orange hair.

 

She gave the humans a thumbs up over her shoulder and kept walking. 

 

The ground quickly turned to pavement; cars rushed by and people strolled down the footpath, oblivious to the blight going on around them. Why the Doctor loved this planet so much, Romana would never know. 

 

She stuffed her hands into her pockets as the wind picked up. The footprints had led her in this direction, and sure enough, the first Doctor and Susan were on the street corner, looking up at the sky.

 

“Doctor!” She starting jogging, to catch up, and the first Doctor turned around hastily. “Doctor,” she said again, stopping in front of him.

 

Of course, he looked down his nose at her.

 

“You're a Time Lord!” he accused, on this tiny street corner, eons away from Gallifrey. “I should have known it was your TARDIS!”

 

As the Doctor pointed an accusing finger at her, Romana realised she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Her Doctor would. But  _she_ needed to do this, and quickly.

 

“Doctor, I want to help you.”

 

“You didn't catch us on Gallifrey, and you won't catch us here, either! Be gone!”

 

“Doctor–”

 

“You leave me and my granddaughter alone!”

 

By Rassilon's beard... “Your granddaughter, her name is Susan.”

 

His fingers tightened around his cane. She took a deep breath.

 

“I know that because I'm from your future, Doctor. Those TARDIS were your own, from the future. And I'm here to keep you safe. There are bad people after you right now, and they're manipulating time and space to do it.”

 

The Doctor looked away, obviously in deep thought, and Susan watched him, wide-eyed. Romana held her breath.

 

“I suppose your story would make sense,” he said, after a long moment's silence. “This ploy seems far too creative for the Time Lords to have invented. But yet, my lady, why is it not safe here? This is a level five planet. There is still a lot to be explained, no?”

 

Romana nodded. “And we'll explain. Just please, come with me.”

 

The Doctor gave a nod in return, and offered Susan his arm. “Come now, child. Can't you feel it? A paradox. She is telling the truth.”

 

“Romana,” she blurted out. “I'm Romana. I travel with you. Your fourth self.”

 

“Ah,” was all he said, and they started walking back to the scrapyard.

 

He asked on the way, “Lady Romana, you do need to explain, why are there people looking for me? I'm just an old man, nobody important.”

 

She almost stopped and turned around, and would have done, if she wasn't looking for angels.

 

“You are more important than you know, Doctor,” is all she could bring herself to say, without spoiling his future, or ranting about his brilliance.

 

“Hmm,” was the reply.

 

The angel in the scrapyard was still frozen in time when they returned, so Romana ushered the first Doctor, Susan, Amy and Rory inside and then shut the door behind herself.

 

“My, it's so different!” the first Doctor exclaimed.

 

She heard the eleventh Doctor laugh aloud. “Oh, this is great! Doctor, it's so good to see you. I'm you!”

 

At the bottom of the stairs, he was enthusiastically shaking his first self's hand, and then crushed Susan into a hug, which she eventually returned, after a nod from his first self. Romana, both of them, had to smile.

 

“I see, dear boy,” the Doctor, the younger one, replied. “The Lady Romana did tell me she would explain what is going on, too.”

 

The eleventh Doctor was still grinning at himself, ear to ear. “There is a  _lot_ going on.”

 

“And I would suppose that amongst that, there is a very good reason for this dangerous paradox, hmm?”

 

“You think _this_ is bad? There's another me running around, on Bannerman Road! And Romana, there's another of her, too. And Jack here, he's a fixed point.”

 

The first Doctor just stared at his eleventh self. Susan hadn't left his elbow.

 

“But the _real_ question is,” the Doctor, the older one, continued, “what am I going to do with you? This isn't how our arrival on Earth is supposed to happen.”

 

“Somebody dangerous, the Lady Romana said,” the first Doctor provided. “After me? Us?”

 

And so, the eleventh Doctor explained the situation. 

 

At one point, Romana, the younger one, heard Owen mutter to Jack, “Is it like racism? He's explaining all this to him, but not us. We're human, he's not. Racism, right? It has to be. We can sue him for discrimination.”

 

Jack didn't grace him with a reply.

 

And while the Doctors spoke, Susan wandered over to the console. She smoothed her hands over the worn controls, frowning. Romana, the younger one, crept up the stairs after her, as Susan fiddled with the monitor.

 

“It's the same levers under my hands,” she told Romana when she got close. “And the same processing unit, in the screen. It's really my grandfather, isn't it, Lady Romana?”

 

A smile touched Romana's face gently as she nodded. 

 

Susan smiled, too, and continued around the console. Romana glanced back down to the Doctors; the first one was leaning heavily on his cane, his chin raised, and the eleventh one was gesturing wildly as he talked.

 

They needed to leave soon, if the TARDIS was working. It was probably most important that the first Doctor and Susan were returned somewhere safe, until this paradox could be corrected, and the Doctor's timeline could return to normal.

 

When she looked back at Susan, she was at the monitor, and it was displaying the external camera feed. On it, currently, was an angel, staring right into the camera, and Susan was looking right at it.

 

 

 

Sarah parked the car outside of the house, on the side of the road. The Doctor scanned their surroundings as he climbed out of the car.

 

When he didn't see anything, he turned to Sarah, who was helping the Brigadier out of the car, “I should go at once.”

 

If he left, then perhaps the Black Guardian would leave both his friends alone. He had no way of defending them from the deity, or the angels.

 

“But you only just got here!” Sarah objected.

 

Oh, how she made his hearts ache.

 

“I know,” he said, giving her a sad smile. “And I–”

 

In the corner of his eye, grey streaked in a perfect line, and then disappeared into the green leaves of the trees. He watched their surroundings closely, and saw nothing, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end.

 

“Doctor?” Sarah stepped forward. “What is it?”

 

“I fear we're surrounded,” he replied, and offered Sarah his hand. She took it.

 

The Brigadier stood next to them, frowning at the empty street. “By what?”

 

The breeze playing with the Doctor's hair stopped, and in the middle of the empty street, across from the car, stood six people. Their skin was ashen white, their hair was grey, and their clothing was black.

 

Sarah jumped, and the Brigadier stared.

 

Not the angels, then.

 

“Do you have it?” one of them hissed at them, brandishing something the Doctor would only recognise as a weapon.

 

He set his jaw. “Do I have what?”

 

“The stone! Do you have it?”

 

“Well, you have to be a little more specific. There are lots of stones – I always thought that the stones from the caves of Metebelis 5 were very impressive. You see, their particular structure causes them to reflect the light in a way that–”

 

“Silence!”

 

Two of them approached, far too close to his friends for his liking.

 

“Don't play the fool, Doctor. You will follow, or your friends will die.”

 

The one nearest to Sarah raised his weapon, and his hearts skipped a beat. “Alright,” he said, putting up his hands, on Sarah's behalf. “Alright. No need to get violent. We can talk about this like civilised men, can't we?”

 

The one threatening Sarah bared its teeth– no, they were  _fangs_ – at Sarah.

 

“By Rassilon!” the Doctor exclaimed. “You're the Great Vampires. How did he get _you_ to cooperate?”

 

He stepped in front of Sarah, who was gripping his hand tightly. The Brigadier moved beside her, too.

 

“You will follow,” they repeated, through their teeth. “Or your friends will die.”

 

The Doctor gave a nod. “Yes, but as long as my friends stay unharmed. They're human. You know that. They'll have no part in this affair.”

 

“Come with us,” the one in front of said, and gestured over to the other four vampires, who were guarding a door in the middle of the street.

 

“That wasn't there before,” the Brigadier remarked.

 

One of the vampires opened the door as they approached, and the Doctor grinned. Two vampires stepped through, and then turned, waiting for them.

 

“An interdimensional door,” the Doctor explained. He looked through first, grinning, and then stepped through the doorway. “I always thought they were wonderful. Very clever.” He turned to their escort. “Don't you agree?”

 

He got a growl in response.

 

The Doctor smiled at him. 

 

Sarah  edged closer, and the Brigadier hobbled alone beside them, looking around. Their surroundings were a brooding black, with a few, brief decorations, like paintings, light features and statues.

 

“I have to say,” the Doctor began, as they approached another, much larger brown door. “you need more colour in here. It's very dark. Perhaps red? Purple?”

 

He was graced with another growl, and not a break in pace. The Brigadier was slowing, and by the time they reached the door, he was leaning heavily on his cane.

 

“I don't think he appreciates your décor tips,” Sarah Jane whispered to him, as one of the vampires knocked on the door three times, and then stepped back.

 

The door groaned open, parting slowly to reveal a large room. There was a strip of red carpet in the centre of the room, perfectly aligned with the base of a throne, where a woman sat with her chin resting on her hand.

 

She was dressing in a flowing gown, with a large bust that extended behind her head in patterns of black and red, blending together almost like a veil. The dress extended to the floor, even while she was sitting.

 

“Neither do I, my dear Sarah Jane,” he replied softly.

 

Then, the Doctor broke away from his two friends to step forward in front of the throne. With all the confidence and bravado of a Time Lord, he bowed deeply, sweeping a hand in front of himself.

 

He threw a look under his arm, locking eyes with Sarah, and so she bowed too.

 

“My lady vampire,” he greeted the woman, who sat up straight, looking at him down her nose. “Please do excuse my friend, he's trying his very best, but he isn't as young as he used to be. Still quite a dashing specimen, though, of course!”

 

The woman gave a slow nod, and then Doctor straightened up.

 

It wasn't advised to be at the mercy of the Great Vampires, and it was less advised to be at the mercy of the Great Vampires when they were in a bad mood.

 

“If I may address you, your Greatness?”

 

She nodded again. The guards were watching him wordlessly, their fingers curled around the triggers of their weapons.

 

He clasped his hands together. “Now, I'm aware our kind don't get along very well, and even that's an understatement. So tell me, why exactly are we here? My friends aren't Gallifreyan.”

 

“You are here because I willed it,” the woman answered. “I am Her Royal Highness Eirlys Du Coudray, high queen of the third great vampire empire.”

 

Her voice seemed to engulf the whole room as it echoed across each of the four walls. Her voice painted tales of violence, death and suffering through the air, pushing it down onto the Doctor's shoulders.

 

“And you work for the Black Guardian,” the Doctor added.

 

Eirlys shifted uncomfortably, and then glared down at him. “Names have power, Doctor, and you should be careful when you use them.”

 

“If you work for... _him_ , then why is my blood still running through my veins? If I'm not mistaken, he does want me dead.”

 

Eiryls held out a hand, gesturing towards him. “The stone.”

 

“Of course, the stone! But you see, we have a bit of a dilemma. You wouldn't be able to touch it as it would burn right through your hand. And you have rather magnificent hands, if I may.”

 

Her eyes darted down her outstretched arm, which the dress left uncovered, and then rested back on the Doctor again. “Then you will place it with my subordinates. Gregor, retrieve something for this stone.”

 

One of the men vanished, from plain sight.

 

“Why would this stone burn me, Doctor?” Eiryls continued.

 

“It... ah... defends itself. It's only meant for Gallifreyan hands. Royal ones.”

 

“You shouldn't worry. I won't intend on keeping it for long.”

 

“You're giving it to the Bla- _him_ ,” the Doctor realised. “He does know it's not a weapon, yes? Simply a memory relic, used to relive your memories. Rassilon used it at the peak of his reign to record his rise to power.”

 

Eiryls shifted again, and worked her jaw, evidently uncomfortable. “He only said he has need of it. And so we have retrieved it for him.”

 

“You, the Great Vampires, are playing fetch for the Bla– _him_.”

 

She growled low, baring her fangs. “Watch yourself, Doctor. You are not alone here, I would remind you.”

 

“And after I give you the stone, how will I know you won't fulfill that threat? Which I do greatly despise you for making, by the way. Like I told your friend before, they're human and have no room in this affair. Leave them out of it, please.”

 

Eiryls began laughing. The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

 

“You think his plans stop at this, Doctor?” she teased, still laughing. “For you to retrieve a stone? Off a level five planet? He has a grand scheme, Doctor. It extends far beyond me, and even you.”

 

He stepped closer, and all of the vampires raised their weapons, but he did not falter. “Tell me, Eiryls, high queen of the third great vampire empire, of his plans. I humbly beg of you.”

 

She stopped laughing, and seemed unable to control her face for a few moments while her mouth twitched. Worry creased into the Doctor's face.

 

“I...” Eiryls said. “I–It was not a coincidence, the Captain's distress signal, to bring you to your old companion. But do not trust your eyes, Doctor, as they cannot see like he can.”

 

The vampire queen's words sent icicles up his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. They also made his head throb, as he met the high queen's eyes and they were full of tears.

 

He swallowed. “Whatever he has promised you, your Highness, it's not worth it. We can put an end to this. Let me help you.”

 

Eiryls ground out from between gritted teeth, “I obey him. So do my brothers and sisters.”

 

Surrounding him, the other vampires were trembling as the psychic hold on them wavered and shook in the compelling breeze. If the Black Guardian had the power to do this...

 

“Doctor–” the queen continued, her voice sounding as if it had been pulled across a torture rack. “Romana,” she gasped. “Watch out for R– agh!”

 

Eiryls doubled over on her throne, clutching her head. When she straightened up, her face was slack, and Gregor was standing next to her.

 

“The stone,” Eiryls said, emotionless. Her eyes bore into his very soul.

 

Behind him, Sarah screamed as she was seized, a weapon held to her side. “Doctor!”

 

“Alright! Alright! I'm giving you the stone!” 

 

He pulled the neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket, and showed it to all the vampires in the room. Then, he approached throne, and placed it gently into the small, metallic basket Gregor had produced.

 

Immediately, Gregor disappeared, and Eiryls gasped for breath. The Doctor wanted nothing but to approach her and help, but he held his ground, should they harm one of his friends.

 

Eiryls gasped, “The Black Guardian– he– he believes the Key To Time is– agh! Lost! The stone, it's a part of a key! To– to a vault of power– aghh!”

 

He winced, but managed to tell her, “Eiryls, thank you.” He bowed again, deeper than before, but when he looked back to her, she was emotionless, her grey eyes boring into him.

 

“Leave this place, Doctor. The plan will unfold. All will be lost," the queen said.

 

The link was weak enough, so that when the Doctor found the Black Guardian, he could easily free these poor creatures. The Black Guardian's psychic hold over them turned them into puppets, which spoke his words and did his work for him. It was cowardly, and chilled the Doctor right to his bones.

 

He swallowed. “I will help you, Eiryls, I swear it.”

 

He turned on his heel, back to his friends. The Brigadier was holding Sarah, who had been released by the vampire. The Doctor took her hand firmly, and placed his other on the Brigadier's back, and then walked away, briskly, towards the door.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Romana, the younger one, yanked the monitor from Susan's attention and quickly flicked it off. She had heard enough of the stories, down in the Cloisters, why the dreaded room didn't have any cameras.

 

"Susan, did you look into its eyes?"

 

"I... yes, Lady Romana. It was looking into the camera, after all–"

 

How Rassilon was going to help them out of this one, Romana didn't know. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and then told the girl gently, "Close your eyes, Susan."

 

She did. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean–"

 

"No, no, it's not your fault," Romana replied. "They shouldn't have been on."

 

Though, what a better way to gain the first Doctor's trust than to endanger his granddaughter's life. Fresh off Gallifrey, too. Romana ushered Susan into one of the seats surrounding the console, telling her, "Sit down for a moment. I'll be right back."

 

She approached the stairs, and she must have looked worried, because she quickly caught the eleventh Doctor's stare.

 

"If you'll... ah, give me a minute," he told his first self, who followed his gaze up to Romana, the younger one. Her older self was frowning at her. "I think Amy's got this  _great_ story for you, about the angels. It's quite funny, actually. Amy?"

 

"It wasn't funny!"

 

"Crashed spaceship, stupid humans, gravity– that's all fun, isn't it?"

 

Amy rolled her eyes, while the first Doctor looked beyond confused. Romana, the younger one, did wonder what his older self had told him about what was going on. Not much, probably, but with a lot of fancy words and excessive hand gestures to make it  _seem_ he'd explained a lot.

 

It was a trait which carried across even his latest incarnations, it seemed.

 

"Romana?" The eleventh Doctor spoke gently, a soft smile on his face, and Romana's older self not far behind him. "Now's not really a good time for this. I'm sorry, but I... I would rather not. Not with him here."

 

She frowned at him. "What?"

 

She got a slow blink in return. "You're... not talking about the Time War?"

 

"You told him," she accused her older self, who had the audacity to look annoyed.

 

She had just forgotten about all that, and it was wonderful to not think about how many of her friends and family burned in that war, and how she couldn't speak a word of it to them.

 

"You were upset," Romana, the older one, defended. "And he's not  _that_ thick, anyway. There's probably psychic residue all over the console where we talked."

 

"Oi! I'm not thick!" The eleventh Doctor crossed his arms, fi xing Romana, the older one, with a playful glare, somehow. "Am I thick?"

 

Which is when he saw Susan, sitting there with one leg crossed over the other, her hands perched on top of her knee, with her eyes closed, just  _ waiting _ .

 

He looked back at Romana, the younger one. "What happened?"

 

His gaze was like ice on her skin, freezing over all her thoughts and putting frost into her breath. Oh, how she _hated_ it when he looked at her like that.

 

"The external cameras were still running," she explained, and then wet her lips. "And there was still an angel outside. It found the cameras–"

 

"Oh," he said. "Not good. Very not good." One of his hands was balled into a tight fist. "Susan?" He perched hesitantly on the seat next to her, as if she would break under his fingertips.

 

"I'm quite alright, grandfather," she answered.

 

He gave his granddaughter the same smile he had given Romana before, when he mentioned the Time War, and he had that same look in his eyes. Romana was just glad Susan couldn't see his face.

 

"Good," was all he said. "Good."

 

He had his fingers in his pocket, probably fishing for his screwdriver, when the first Doctor appeared at the top of the stairs, a frown etched onto his face.

 

"Susan?" he asked, his eyes fixed on his granddaughter. "Are you alright?"

 

Nobody said anything.

 

The first Doctor stepped closer. "What is it? What has happened?"

 

Romana had never seen such a vicious stare on the Doctor's face.

 

"It's... ah... Susan. A little mishap," the eleventh Doctor rushed to explain. "Don't worry. It's nothing major. Just... an angel. In her head. And–"

 

"A _what?_ " The first Doctor was staring at the eleventh Doctor as if he'd grown a third hand.

 

"What's after us. Look, trust me, they don't give up easy." He swallowed, and began waving his sonic at Susan, until the first Doctor batted the instrument away.

 

"Put that gadget away! And explain to me why you've put _my_ granddaughter in danger! "

 

The eleventh Doctor looked as if someone had pressed a hot iron to his face.

 

"Grandfather–"

 

He reeled around, "I would never put her in danger!"

 

" _Grandfather–_ "

 

" _You_ bought her here–!"

 

"She's all I have–"

 

"How dare you–"

 

"I'm trying–"

 

"For Rassilon's sake..." Romana, the older one, put a hand on both their shoulders, at which they both looked at her, mouth hanging open to retort each other. "Let Susan talk."

 

The girl gave Romana thankful nod. "Grandfather," she started, again. "It was just an accident.  _I_ turned on the screen. And it hasn't been there long, anyway. It will be easy to dislodge."

 

The Doctors looked at each other.

 

"Well," the first Doctor said. "Remove it, then. Come on, boy!"

 

The eleventh Doctor took a deep breath, and replied, "Last time I  _did_ have a crack in space and time handy..."

 

"A  _what_ ?"

 

"Don't worry, spoilers."

 

Romana, the older one, gave them both a pointed look, and the eleventh Doctor smiled in such a way that made the younger Romana's skin crawl, while the first Doctor glared.

 

"Oh, but, there isn't one here?" Susan interjected. "About 150 miles away, I think. Can't you feel it, grandfather?"

 

The eleventh Doctor looked as if he was considering jumping for joy as he cried, "Of course! The rift! Not  _exactly_ a crack in the spacetime continuim, but it'll do."

 

"Why, you're completely mad! Cracks in space and time? Gallifrey wouldn't have a word of it!" The first Doctor exclaimed in reply.

 

The eleventh Doctor's grin slid right off his face and crashed to the floor, shattering to pieces at his feet. A few shards skidded over to Romana, the younger one, slicing through her resolve.

 

She had forgotten about that.

 

She  _needed_ to know why– why he looked at her like that, and why, despite everything, he could still bound towards the console with a grin on his face and shout he had a plan, and that it was going to work.

 

"Doc? What's going on?"

 

Romana, the younger one, was surprised Torchwood had joined them for the Doctor's shouting, and not the Doctors shouting _at each other._

 

"Your rift, Jack! I can use it!"

 

Jack's brow creased, but he still said, "The rift's not safe. You could rip Cardiff apart."

 

"That makes it more fun!"

 

"Doctor, I'm serious. I can't let you open it."

 

"Calm your socks. The old girl's quite good at rifts." He patted the monitor, which became riddled by static.

 

"Explain." Owen levelled the eleventh Doctor with narrowed eyes, as he tapped the monitor again, and the static cleared.

 

"It's quite simple, actually. My granddaughter has a weeping angel in her head, and I'm going to use the Cardiff rift to break the connection by sending the angels throughm" he explained, eyes still on the screen. "Foremost, though, I'm really hoping all that duct tape will solve our takeoff problems."

 

Romana, the younger one, heard the first Doctor mutter 'duct tape' in disbelief, under his breath.

 

"We can't just put them in there, you know that, Doctor," Romana, the older one, interjected. "You need something to lure them in." And with a look that made the younger Romana shiver, her older self settled her gaze on Jack.

 

The Fact blinked in response. "I know I'm incredibly handsome, but these are stone angels we're talking about. Killer ones."

 

"But you would work perfectly," her older self continued. "You're an endless source. You'd be ideal."

 

"I'm sorry, but did I miss something?" Gwen looked between Jack and Romana, the older one. "Jack's a _human_ being, not your bait."

 

"The rift could take him too," Toshiko added.

 

Everybody looked at the eleventh Doctor. He was still at the monitor, his head hung. He gave a long sigh.

 

"Jack..." he started slowly.

 

"No, Doctor!" Amy snapped at him. "You're not seriously considering this, are you? He could get hurt! Or die! Did you consider _that?_ "

 

"Of course I did," he said so quietly, Romana barely heard him. "Of course I did!" he exclaimed, louder. "I don't want anybody to get hurt! But this is my _granddaughter_ , and I... I..." He swallowed thickly.

 

 _And I can't lose her again_ , were the unspoken words Romana, both of them, knew he wanted to say.

 

"My boy, you are right," the first Doctor finally said. "But this angel could be doing whatnot with Susan's mind, yet this young man, a fixed point in time; he will live. He will always live." He raised his chin, looking down his nose at Jack. "That is your condition, hmm?"

 

Jack wasn't looking at him. He wasn't looking at anybody.

 

"He is _not_ a chess piece!" Gwen cried, staring in disbelief at the Doctors and the older Romana. "You can't do this!"

 

Only Romana could meet her gaze.

 

Now, she understood why the Doctor looked at her like he did. The Time War turned them into _this._

 

There was no doubt or hestiation behind her older self's decision; to her, Jack _was_ a chess piece, moved on a board to advance the needs of the king.

 

That was how war worked. You don't look back. You never look back.

 

How long had it taken her to figure that out?

 

How long did she have to hold that next to her heart for?

 

Too long, definitely, if all she did was look around and see opportunities to rise above the rest, to be _victorious_ and save your own precious skin.

 

_That_ was war. That was what she was. A war lord.

 

And the Doctor– he was a war  _hero._ He  _had_ to be.

 

Jack's voice cut clean through the tension of the console room, "Do I happen to get a say in this?" He was looking at Romana, too, with his jaw set.

 

"Of course," the Doctor, the war hero, replied. The other one listened closely, while the rest of the room held its breath.

 

"I... I want to be on the other side of the galaxy when we open that rift," he said, and half of the room breathed out. "But I can't let you be hurt, Susan, not if I could have helped. You mean a lot to the Doctor, and I know how that feels."

 

War was listening to a man justify his own slaughter.

 

"And," Jack continued, breaking the younger Romana's hearts in two. "I was a Time Agent long enough to understand how important it is to set things straight. No use saving anybody if we blow a hole in the universe, is it?"

 

But this was not war.

 

Gently, he added, "Just do me one thing, Doc. Come and find me, when it's over. These guys need me."

 

Romana, the younger one, was thanking Rassilon she couldn't see the eleventh Doctor's face. However, the first Doctor was nodding, looking slightly like he regretted it, while the older Romana had the audacity to look satisified.

 

But nobody moved.

 

Not until Gwen roared, "Well! Get _on_ with it, then! Let's go and send a man to his death!"

 

Jack squeezed his eyes closed. "Gwen–"

 

"No!" she cried. "You don't get to say that! You don't get to do this!" Her whole body shook. "This man, you _idolise_ him, Jack. And he's just... he's..."

 

"He's _wonderful_ , Gwen. He's... he's got the stars under his feet and this _hope_ in his eyes, like this little feeling, that everything's going to be okay."

 

She sniffed. "Jack..."

 

The eleventh Doctor threw up the big lever, his knuckles white.

 

They landed under the fountain, where this paradox had started, and the eleventh Doctor focused on nothing but the screen, which was filled with formuale, numbers and a flashing, angry progress bar.

 

Meanwhile, Jack led his team outside, Amy stormed off, and the younger Romana approached the console, away from her older self, who was talking to Susan.

 

"You're sure this angel will follow us," she told his back. It wasn't a question.

 

"It has to," he replied.

 

"You don't even have a plan," she accused, but it fell on its face, to keep the eleventh Doctor's grin company on the TARDIS floor. "You're going to kill that man, and you don't even have a solid _plan_."

 

His chin fell to his chest, and Romana almost regretted it.

 

"And you let me talk you into it," she whispered at his back.

 

This was _not_ war. This was _her_.

 

"When this is over, I'll tell you," he murmured in reply. "I'll tell you why. It's not like you'll remember, anyway. What's the harm? A life here, a secret there? Nothing, of course. It all means absolutely _nothing_ , in the end. Just another story."

 

Romana, the younger one, swallowed. "You're not like him at all," she said, and then walked away.

 

She watched him finish with the monitor, talk to the first Doctor, and then leave the TARDIS.

 

She followed him outside, where Jack showed the Doctor a Rhidonian tracking device, which he clipped to the inside of his billowing coat, and then hugged the old man tight.

 

 _This is my choice_ , the Fact mouthed to the Doctor's ear. _And I'll be okay. Faced worse, haven't we?_

 

He just smiled.

 

Then, they all huddled inside the TARDIS, and the Doctor activated the program, while Gwen Cooper wiped stubbornly at her eyes, and the eleventh Doctor looked like he regretted it.

 

 

 

 

 

They stepped onto the road outside Sarah's house, where they were collected from.

 

"You've got that contemplative look on your face," Sarah told him as they walked up the driveway, after the Brigadier suggested a good cup of tea, which was unanimously agreed to be a good idea.

 

"That would be because I'm thinking," he answered, and let half a smile touch his face.

 

Sarah laughed a little, and oh, how beautiful it made her look. "Oh, but with that big head of yours? You could be thinking about anything."

 

"About our vampire queen," he said. "She told me quite a lot."

 

"And pointed a gun at us," the Brigadier added.

 

At the front door, Sarah helped the Brigadier inside, and the Doctor entered last, shutting the door behind himself, but not before checking outside for any angels or mysterious doors.

 

"Where's K9?" he then asked, while Sarah and the Brigadier pottered towards the kitchen.

 

"Up in the attic," she replied over her shoulder. "I haven't had the materials to do any of his repairs."

 

By the time Sarah had a teapot brewing, the Doctor had a bundle of rags in his arms, which he dumped in the sitting room joined to the small kitchen.

 

"You found him, then?" she called, as she searched for three mugs, and the Brigadier took a seat next to the Doctor.

 

"Did I?" The Doctor unravelled all of the cloth, dumping it on the floor next to the couch. "Do tell me, I'm burning with anticipation."

 

The Brigadier just shook his head.

 

He extracted K9 from his prison, and then knelt down next to him, putting an ear to the side of his head. Then, he knocked on the top of his head, between his ears.

 

"Hello?" he called. "K9? Any dog in there?"

 

Of course, there was no answer. The Doctor extracted his screwdriver from his pocket, which was quickly used to pull the casing off K9's side.

 

"Now, let's take a look at you," he said.

 

A few stripped circuit wires and a reversed polarity later, K9 started whirring, and his ears twitched. The Doctor grinned, re-attaching K9's side, and then asked, "Can you hear me, K9?"

 

"Affirmtive, mistress."

 

"Very funny. If you're not careful, I'll put you back into that attic."

 

"Diagnostic complete. All systems working."

 

"Good," the Doctor declared. "Now, K9, active protocol 444444. Voice activiation is..." The Doctor cleared his throat.

 

Then, he expertly sung the first four lines to 'Tomorrow Never Knows', to which K9 said, "Confirmed, master. The TARDIS is being located."

 

"Do try to make it quick, K9."

 

"Amount of time before protocol is fully functional: unknown."

 

"Just try to make it before I regenerate, hm?" he asked, and then sat back onto the couch, leaning back to look at the ceiling. It was a very plain ceiling, so he asked, "How old are you now, Brigadier?"

 

The old man chuckled. "Too old to be doing all this adventuring," he replied. "I don't have the hips for it anymore."

 

The Doctor continued to stare at the ceiliing.

 

"Don't pity us, please, Doctor," the Brigadier continued. "We're both very happy."

 

The Doctor slowly looked backed at him, a reflective smile playing on his face. "That's... good. Very good. I had hoped so."

 

Sarah bought out the tea pot and three matching mugs, which she set on the small table in front of the couch.

 

"Sorry, K9," the Doctor told the dog, who was still whirring at his feet. "No tea for you. You know what it does to your circuits."

 

Sarah poured them all a cup, and the Doctor nursed his between his hands. He did try his best not to think about Gallifrey, but a good cup of tea always reminded him of the way the Citadel glistened on the horizon, how the red grass spread as far as the eye could see and how the treetops seemed to sing a song with the soft breeze, like a well-practiced duet.

 

He took a sip.

 

"I didn't get the chance to ask between the all-powerful stone collecting and getting robbed by vampires– where have your lives taken you, my friends? _I_ became Lord President of Gallifrey, would you believe it."

 

"I'm sure that came with many stories," Sarah answered. "Many more than we could tell you, definitely."

 

They wanted to talk about him, of course.

 

So, he talked, "I would gladly tell you, but I don't seem to remember my time as Lord President. Or why I became President in the first place. Seems rather boring. But I was told that I saved Gallifrey from Sontarans and tin foil or something like that so I suppose it went alright."

 

"That certainly does sound familiar," the Brigadier muttered. "What was it, when you regernerated? A killer robot?"

 

"A killer robot," the Doctor remembered fondly. "And oh, do you remember–"

 

A breeze stirred the newspaper on the table. "Protocol successful, master. The TARDIS is materialising."

 

The Doctor finished his hot tea in one gulp, and then stood up. "Finally!" he declared. "Hello, old girl!"

 

Sarah and the Brigadier were grinning, too.

 

Oh, how he hated goodbyes. How tempted he was to simply push open the door and leave, without looking back. But...

 

"I do owe it to you both, don't it?" He turned to his old friends.

 

First, he helped the Brigadier to his feet to give him a firm handshake. "Brigadier, you're one of my best and oldest friends and it is, as always, an honor to work with you and be your friend. Have a wonderful life, Alistair."

 

"And you as well, Doctor," he replied, and then, the old man saluted him.

 

The Doctor then turned to Sarah, where he placed his scarf around her neck. "My Sarah Jane," he said, and pretended not to see the tears in her eyes. "I will never forget you. You'll always be in my hearts. And do take good care of that scarf, it's one of my best. Cold wash only. Drip dry."

 

He hugged her tight, and then stepped into the TARDIS. "Take good care of yourselves," he said. "Not that I would expect anything less, of course. I, meanwhile, have to go and clean up my older self's mess, probably. Keep me in your thoughts."

 

With that, he left.

 

He parked the TARDIS in the vortex, so he could take a good long shower and get a change of clothes before having to deal with his eleventh self again. He did think he deserved it, after that ordeal.

 

But of course, the universe had other ideas.

 

Halfway down the stark white hallway, the ship shook suddenly, which nearly sent him face-first into a wall when he lost his footing.

 

Which shouldn't be happening. He was in the _time_ vortex; it was impossible for there to be obstructions here. And so, what the scanners told him was _beyond_ confusing.

 

Turned out, the offending object was a dead weight against the right-most TARDIS door, which he pulled inside, laying him down on the floor.

 

The Doctor readily shut the door, and then looked down at his obstruction: the late Captain Jack Harkness, who was about to have his cheeks slapped.

 

"Don't play dead in my ship! You can be dead anywhere else, just not here, please. And _what_ were you doing in the vortex, anyway? It's not really the ideal strolling location."

 

The Fact was still.

 

The fourth Doctor gave a heavy sigh, and prodded him in the side with his foot, instead. He did it again, again, and then once more until he decided to check for a heartbeat, with his ear to Jack's chest.

 

Of course, there was none.

 

He knew Jack was supposed to be a fixed point. But he was dead, stone dead; killed by the radiation in the vortex. He wasn't doing much to amend the situation, either. How inconsiderate of him, being dead on his floor.

 

With another sigh, the Doctor straightened up, and then kicked Jack once more, just for good measure.

 

Which of course, was when one of the screens on the console flashed to life, displaying a man with blonde curls and a sneer worry of Rassilon himself.

 

"Doctor," he greeted. "I'm Commander Maxil of the 212th regiment, the high council's guard. Your presence is demanded at the Citadel at once."

 

"I thought your name was was weasel face," the Doctor returned, but he knew how much hope was in his eyes. Maxil was on Gallifrey, which was still in the sky. It was still there. "From the class under me, too. I _am_ a little busy, though. Maybe another time."

 

"I'm on orders from the High Council. They demand to know exactly what you're busy with."

 

The Doctor turned his back to the screen, to cast his eyes over the lifeless form of Captain Jack Harkness.

 

"Hm, yes," Maxil continued. "The paradox. Am I right? You and your older self."

 

The Doctor turned back around, almost giving himself a headspin. "You've been spying on me!" he accused.

 

"I'm following orders," the commander defended. "And my orders are to bring you here, to explain this."

 

They must have tried to locate him earlier, if they had all this data on him, but he had been hidden in his older self's timeline. At least he was useful for something.

 

"And that is whether you like it or not," Maxil sneered.

 

The time rotor flashed red, and all the buttons on the console suddenly lit up. The Doctor glared at the screen. "Don't you dare, you rat-faced weasel!"

 

The TARDIS lurched abruptly to the left, and the skin flickered off, and Jack gasped to life on the fourth Doctor's TARDIS floor.

 

"W–What? What's going on?"

 

The fourth Doctor was clinging onto the console, trying to get the flight controls to respond. "Ah! Good morning, my good man!"

 

Blearily, Jack blinked at him, still sprawled across the floor. It was probably the safer place to be in this cacophony, in Jack's defense. "Doctor?"

 

"Yes, yes, you're right. Not _really_ morning, because we're in the vortex. Strange place to take a walk, might I add?"

 

"I... I'm..." The room settled enough for the fourth Doctor to quickly deduce Jack wasn't feeling so well.

 

"In my TARDIS," he supplied. "And we, my good friend, are on our way to Gallifrey."

 


	7. Chapter 7

The room lurched violently to the left, to the right, and then, the TARDIS came to an abrupt stop, like somebody had suddenly slammed on the brakes.

 

Slowly, the Doctor released the console, his eyes affixed onto the time rotor, to not the room into moving again. In the corner of his eye, he saw Jack push himself into a sitting position, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

 

"We should get outside before they break my lock," he said, inspecting the diagnostics quickly, but all of the controls were locked. He shut off the unresponsive monitor. "It's a rather magnificent lock, if I might say so, and I don't particularly want to get a new one."

 

He turned to face Jack, and the immortal man blinked, hard, and then rubbed at his temple.

 

"You were definitely right about the time vortex," he remarked.

 

The fourth Doctor made a noise of amusement, and then came to offer Jack his hand. "Are you alright?" he asked.

 

"Yeah. Good. I'm good." Jack took it, and the Doctor pulled him to his feet, steadying him with a hand placed firmly on his shoulder. "We're really on Gallifrey," he said next.

 

"Yes," he replied, and relief swelled through his chest as he confirmed it for himself. It was still in the sky, and not just another memory. "It's still here, in my timeline, which you've wandered into. How did you even _get_ into the vortex, anyway?"

 

"Trust me, it's a long story."

 

"Ah, wonderful. Long stories are my speciality. And the Time Lords have some splendid alcohol for it." With his hand still on Jack's shoulder, he turned them both towards the door, continuing, "But you better not wander off. Aliens aren't liked around here, much less a fixed point. They'll all know what you are, and definitely won't be nice about it."

 

"Good to know," Jack mumbled.

 

The Doctor looked at him in apology.

 

Then, he pushed open the door to reveal Commander Maxil, a company of guardsmen, and one of those bland docking bays.

 

It was a rather large and spectactular room, a fine example of Gallifreyan engineering, built to hold in excess of fifty ships of different shapes, sizes and models. There were thousands of these buildings spread across the planet.

 

This one was quite heavily populated, as he suspected it was the one adjoined to the High Council chambers. Gallifreyans and Time Lords alike worked across the stretch of the room, working on ships, talking, writing notes on clipboards, leaving, and arriving through the two massive hangar doors behind them.

 

The Doctor didn't miss the look on Jack's face as he looked out over at the city through the open doors.

 

The suns were setting, so an eerie shadow was scrawled across the grey ground, and on Maxil's face, making him look more cross than he usually was.

 

Behind the commander, the enormous wall opposite the hangar doors parted into a large corridor, lit crudely by an endless column of lights down the centre of the ceiling. The other guards stood in the mouth of the hall.

 

"Ah, Maxil!" he exclaimed, grinning at the regiment commander. "Have you gained weight?"

 

Maxil looked down his highborn Gallifreyan nose at him. And then, his face shrivelled, and he looked over the Doctor's shoulder, at Jack, who was still staring out at the Gallifreyan skyline. " _What_ is _that_?" He looked accusingly back at the Doctor.

 

"Shouldn't you know?" the Doctor returned, still grinning. "Oh, but you slept through all your lectures, didn't you? No wonder you only became Commander. His name is Jack, and he's my very good friend."

 

Maxil worked at his jaw. "You will both follow," he said, flatly, and then gestured for the guards.

 

Jack fell into step beside him as they walked, deep into the Citadel, and quite a way up, towards the High Council's chambers. However, much to the Doctor's surprise, they took a left at the top of the tower, towards the high chancellor's chambers, instead. Maxil stopped them prior, outside of the double doors.

 

"High Chancellor Flavia wants to meet with you before your interrogation," the commander said. "She's being kept at a meeting, but will be here shortly. You will wait here under guard until she arrives."

 

There was a small couch on one side of the corridor, which the Doctor quickly claimed.

 

"If you would excuse me," Maxil added, "I have other duties to attend to."

 

"Your toenails need clipping again, I suspect," the Doctor remarked, and then gave him a cheery wave. "Have a _lovely_ day, Maxil."

 

Maxil as good as stormed down the corridor and disappeared around the corner, followed by most of his guards. Two guards remained, however, who stood against the opposite wall, looking anywhere but at them.

 

Jack sat down beside the Doctor, smirking slightly.

 

"I am quite sorry I've dragged you here with me," he apologised to him, after a moment. "I can imagine it's anything but entertaining."

 

Jack's smirk faded. "It's... weird, I guess. I've heard a lot about... well... _Gallifrey_ , and to actually be here..." He trailed off, and the Doctor gave him a sideways glance, and Jack's eyes were fixed to the golden-brown, tiled floor.

 

Oh, of course.

 

Jack was feeling _guilty_ , because he was here, and the Doctor he knew wasn't; he couldn't be. Gallifrey was simply a memory for his older self, which he could relive through thoughts and words, nothing more, yet Jack was living and breathing it, now.

 

The Doctor wanted to reassure Jack, but he couldn't entetain those thoughts, not here, and not now.

 

He allowed himself a sigh. "It does smell funny," the Doctor remarked.

 

Jack huffed in amusement, looking over to him with sympathy in his eyes.

 

"How about you tell me how you found yourself in the _time_ vortex, of all things, my good man?" he prompted, and looked away, down the corridor. "It'll be a good long story, you said. Because you see, the rumour is, the reason Time Lords have so many regenerations is because of how long they spend waiting for politicians."

 

Jack laughed quietly. "I always wondered why they gave you twelve," he said, and the Doctor could hear the grin in his voice.

 

"And I always wonder why I go through them so quickly," the Doctor returned, also smiling. The guards were frowning at them. "I only have myself to blame, of course, but it does get rather embarrassing. I mean, can you believe, _eleven_ different versions of myself?"

 

" _You're_ the _fourth_ one I've met," Jack added.

 

"Too many," the Doctor lamented, and then had to chuckle, because even if this man made him want to run away very quickly, he was good company. "But now, tell me this story." He looked back at Jack.

 

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but much to the Doctor's surprise, this was also when two guards walked around the corner, followed by a woman in golden and red billowing robes, decorated with circular Gallifreyan.

 

He immediately got to his feet, grinning. Jack followed his lead, minus the grin.

 

"High Chancellor!" he exclaimed. "It's good to finally meet you." Her guards exchanged with Maxil's ones. "But I have to say," he added. "It would have been nice if you asked me before hijacking my TARDIS."

 

She gave him an all-knowing look, and replied, "You wouldn't have come."

 

"Well, yes. But it would have been nice regardless."

 

Flavia's guards opened the double doors, and Flavia strolled inside, followed by Jack and the Doctor.

 

Her chambers were not as impressive as the high council's, but still marvellous all the same. The furniture, floor, walls and ceiling were all white, and the room was filled with white and gold-rimmed furnirture, and red was littered across the room as decoration.

 

The Doctor stopped at a small table in the centre of the room, surrounded by two longues. Jack was at his elbow. The table contained a clear, crystal bottle of red liquid and a collection of smaller glasses slacked next to the bottle.

 

Flavia stopped before the threshold at the end of the room, and before she turned around, the Doctor slipped the bottle into his coat. Jack smothered his grin as the High Chancellor's gaze settled on them both; she had her hands clasped together in her large sleeves, and a well-meaning look on her face.

 

"This is a situation that as few people as possible should know about it," she said, and inclined her head towards them both.

 

It took the Doctor a few moments, but he turned to look at Jack, and then back to Flavia. "Oh," he said. "I can assure you, he's trustworthy."

 

"No matter," she replied. "Come with me, Doctor. The Fact can remain here. Under guard." She glanced over her guards at the head of the room

 

He'd heard enough about High Chancellor Flavia to know she wasn't going to budge.

 

"Then, let me request the presence of the human Leela, to keep him company so those two don't have to," he returned. "Their frowning is audible."

 

"They'll stay. But I will send for Leela." She tapped something on her wrist, which flashed golden, and then smiled at the Doctor. "Come."

 

Flavia gestured to the door, with all the grace of a high chancellor of Gallifrey while adorned in extravagant High Gallifreyan robes.

 

He made sure to tell Jack before he went, "She's quite a wonderful woman, Jack. You'll like her, just don't say or do anything that might make her feel the need to knife you in the throat. She does tend to do that."

 

The immortal man looked a cross between confused, concerned and impressed as Flavia ushered the Doctor out of the room and into the hallway. She led him back up the corridor, and then out onto a balcony which overlooked the skyline. She shut the doors behind them both.

 

"I take it you're highly aware of this dangerous paradox we're all currently in," she said, and turned, moving to the edge of the balcony. She leaned on the railing, and the Doctor joined her, with his eyes cast out across the Citadel.

 

"Only the one involving my future self," he answered. "Don't tell me there's more. Oh, please. I've had enough paradoxes to last a lifetime today."

 

A slight smile crossed the High Chancellor's face. "The Black Guardian," she said. "He's crossed his own timeline, in your present, with something from his future."

 

That was far worse than meeting idiotic future incarnations of himself. In fact, that was catastrophic, perhaps even _beyond_ catastrophic, as that would quite easily endanger the entire universe's _existence._

 

Flavia continued, "You defeat him, in your future, and it would seem somebody has told him of his failure. So he has a new objective."

 

He bit out a laugh. "And _what_ could be more powerful than the Key to Time?"

 

"It's not the only power vault in the universe," Flavia returned. "Only the most well-known, and most closesly guarded by Gallifrey." She paused, and then looked at him, and he realised how tired she looked.

 

Her regeneration _was_ an older body, and a later regeneration than most, but still, she could always hide her years well. She was a politician, for Rassilon's sake.

 

"What is going on, Chancellor?" he asked, turning to her, now frowning. Maxil had mentioned an interrogation by the high council earlier, but this was something else.

 

"Have you heard of the Vault of the Universe, Doctor?"

 

He shook his head.

 

"It is the power bank which holds the key to everything; the strike of energy which started all of creation as we know it. I believe the humans call it... the Big Bang?" Flavia looked back out towards the horizon, where the suns were creeping down behind the mountains."Whatever caused the universe to exist was a large cosmic event. But regardless, it was still an _event_ , and can be accessed because it exists within time. Whatever is there is known as the Vault of the Universe. The Black Guardian seeks to access that energy so he can bend the universe to his will. There, he could cause unimaginable destruction."

 

This put his concerns with the Time War to shame, and a small part of him considered telling Flavia the fate of her planet, if it might become simply _nothing_ to begin with.

 

He looked back out across the Citadel, and imagined what it would look like when it was burning, and then, when it was simply ash and memories.

 

"I understand," he said.

 

"Good," Flavia replied. A small patrol ship flew past, tugging at the Doctor's curls, and sending Flavia's robes flying in the wind. "And I heard you found the Stone of Rassilon," she continued, once it had passed.

 

"Yes, but now the Black Guardian has it."

 

Flavia was silent for a few long moments. The suns sank further behind the horizon.

 

"It's not easy, accessing the birth of the universe," she continued.

 

"I haven't tried," the Doctor admitted. "I was rather worried I'd find myself there. It would be terrible for my ego."

 

He saw a flicker of amusement cross Flavia's face, but still she continued, "You need eight items, all fundamental concepts on which the universe is based."

 

"Ah, yes, always the ominious item collecting. Wouldn't that storyline be a little overused, by now, especially considering the Key to Time?"

 

"Without these, the Vault would be unstable. You would risk damaging it, which could prove to be even more catastrophobic than the Black Guardian attempting to harness all that energy."

 

"So, he's smart enough to gather all of these items, but not to not use the Vault?"

 

Flavia smiled slightly. "He strives for power as much as chaos, Doctor, you should know that," she said.

 

Silence fell for a few moments, as the suns sunk further below the horizon, now almost half-hidden from view. It reminded the Doctor they were alone, even without Flavia's guard.

 

"And this is a large conspiracy, I take it? The High Council is divided."

 

"You do catch on quickly," Flavia remarked. "Some want to find these items, to witness the birth of the universe, as they believe it is our right. Yet others believe it should remain untainted."

 

"Well, you never did agree on anything." Then, the Doctor sighed, looking back to Flavia. "Now, let me take another guess– you want me to stop the Black Guardian."

 

"That would be correct," she replied. " _But_ I want you to do it, so that _you_ find these eight items, so that they can be distributed safely again, by the Council of the Guardians. It's too late to simply stop the Black Guardian now. He already has one key."

 

"The stone."

 

Flavia nodded.

 

"And what fundamental universe concept is that?" The Doctor couldn't resist asking. The stone was a relic, nothing more.

 

"The past," Flavia provided.

 

Of course. It held memories. The universe could not exist without history.

 

"And I'm _also_ going to take a final guess, and say the White Guardian has been in contact with you? The Time Lords couldn't possibly know all this."

"He puts his upmost faith in you," Flavia returned, and the Doctor had to sigh. "He says, that once you know of your quest, he will meet with you and you will attempt to locate the second key."

 

Wonderful. Just what he needed– quality time with the White Guardian, attempting to save the universe at his longwinded side.

 

"I take it, this will also mean my current paradox with my future self isn't a pressing concern," he added. "Because frankly, he's an _idiot_ , and I was hoping you could untangle our timelines and put us both back where we belong."

 

"Unfortunately, yes," Flavia returned. "The Black Guardian _is_ stablising all current paradoxes, which means it is safe, for now. We will sort out your timeline once this threat has passed."

 

The Doctor nodded slowly, and sighed, looking out over the city.

 

"Who told him?" he suddenly found himself asking, looking back at Flavia. "It couldn't have been himself. The Guardians have no ability to travel in time."

 

Flavia frowned. "I'm... not sure," she admitted. "The White Guardian didn't say."

 

It could have been anyone. Any single soul from this universe, out of the billions all shining bright against time, could have jeoparadised everything that ever has been, is, and will be. It could have been him, or one of his friends, or his enemies, or anyone.

 

It didn't matter.

 

But it did make his hearts burn with curiosity.

 

"Did you have anything else to ask?" Flavia pressed.

 

"No, High Chancellor, I'm sure the White Guardian will have plenty to say," the Doctor replied, and then after a moment's thought, added, "Thank you."

 

She gave him a nod, smiling knowingly. "Then you should be on your way, and quickly," she continued. "With the high council's division, it was undecided whether we should inform you of this issue. It won't be well received that I told you."

 

"Ah, so, Maxil won't get the satisfaction of having bought me to my doom about the paradox, either."

 

"That was simply a story for the other councilors to believe, so that I wouldn't be stopped. Some of the other Time Lords feel very... _strongly_ about this issue."

 

He had to grin. "Don't worry, High Chancellor, I will make sure that the universe is still standing long enough for you to have a few more breakfasts."

 

He turned to leave the balcony, but the breeze whispered across the back of his neck, and he turned around again. "Oh, and if I may have a request of my own?" he questioned. "You know how very few times my brother, Cardinal Irving Braxiatel, is around when I'm here. If you could tell him to contact me as soon as he has the chance?"

 

She looked confused, but still agreed, "Of course."

 

He didn't want her to see the look on his face, so he threw another, "Thank you," over his shoulder as he turned to leave, back towards the High Chancellor's chambers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a length of time before there was a sharp, brief knock at the door.

 

The guards opened the doors to reveal a very attractive young woman, with dark, long hair pulled back in an elaborate design, and dressed in simple Gallifreyan garb.

 

She nodded at the two guards as she stepped inside, who closed the doors, and then approached Jack.

 

"I am Leela," she introduced herself. "Where is the old one? Is he here?"

 

Jack gave her a very wide grin. "He went for a walk with his girlfriend," he replied. "So it's just you and me."

 

A confused look crossed Leela's face. "Girlfriend? The Doctor?"

 

Well, admittedly,  _that_ was an entertaining thought, if Jack had to entertain one.

 

The Doctor didn't like to be nailed down, especially with some _one_ as opposed to some _where_. Even then, imagining the Doctor in a house, with four walls, a floor and a roof, was kind of difficult, let alone with another person.

 

"I'm joking," he told her.

 

It was her turn to smile, but it was more of a smirk than a grin. "Hello, Joking."

 

"Jack, actually. _Captain_ Jack. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Leela."

 

She looked him up and down. "Captain? What are you captain of?"

 

He bit back a laugh. " _Well_ –"

 

"You have a ship?"

 

"Used to–"

 

"What planet are you from?"

 

"Earth–"

 

"Species?"

 

"Human," he answered, "technically."

 

She narrowed her eyes. "Technically?"

 

He did laugh this time, a little bit, but she still scowled. "It's a _long_ story. But I'm an Earth boy, born and raised. 51 st century."

 

"The Doctor took me to Earth a few times," Leela said. "He seems very fond of it."

 

Fond was an understatement. Leela had already continued, "And, you, _Jack?_ " she continued. "You are his... companion, then?"

 

"Not from around these parts, though," he replied, nodding. "A future version of him. When he's changed his face. I just..." His eyes wandered to the room. "... tagged along."

 

Leela was frowning at him. "So, what has happened? The guards are not very informative."

 

Jack looked back at her, and the two guards by the door shifted slightly. "Beats me. The chancellor took the Doctor outside; said she wouldn't talk him with me in the room."

 

Leela pursed her lips and looked away, irritation flashing in her eyes.

 

"He should be back soon," Jack added as a peace offering, but Leela was looking at the door, still scowling.

 

"Alright," she then said, slowly, and wandered over to the centre table with the crystal glass set. "Have you been on many other planets, in your travels?" she asked.

 

She picked up a glass, and Jack smiled at all of the fond memories he kept tucked away safely, in the back of his mind for rainy, bad and sad days.

 

"Yeah, yeah, plenty. We went to a planet once, just clouds and blue sky, as far as you could see. But the clouds were just dense enough, you could stand on them, and you can see an endless sea below your feet. Blimey, was it gorgeous. And an adventure when I _slipped_ off one and almost plummeted to my death. Good times. _Great_."

 

She was nodding, but her eyes were on the glass as she turned it over in her hands. "I have been on a few, like the guards on the door changed after I entered. They are not supposed to do that; they're the personal guards of the High Chancellor."

 

Jack frowned at her, and when she glanced at him, he managed a discreet nod.

 

"We are in danger. We have to get the Doctor out of here," she continued, and stepped away from the table, still with the glass in her hand. She spoke up again, "But those are just a few. I never knew there were so many!"

 

"I know," he said, and risked a glance at the door guards, who weren't paying them any mind. "The universe is endless. You know, I was actually right at the end of it all, once. With the _Doctor._ "

 

Oh, yes, terribly inconspicious.

 

But he could trust Leela; the raised hairs on the back of his neck weren't giving him much choice, anyway. And, she was one of the Doctor's companions, after all.

 

"He travels strange places," she replied. "Together, we helped where we could, but he seemed to have enemies everywhere we went. Many horrible creatures that wanted to kill him because they feared the Doctor might stop their plans."

 

Which, of course, was when the Doctor threw open the doors, surprising all four of them. Leela nearly hurled the glass at him.

 

"Leela!" he exclaimed, cheerily, and moved to give her a good, firm handshake. 

 

She hugged him instead, and he visibly stiffened. Jack saw her whisper something into his ear. She pulled away saying, "It is good to see you haven't regenerated yet, but you ought to put the scarf back on."

 

His grin sobered as he felt around his neck, and then a look of realization crossed his face. "Ah, yes, Sarah Jane. That's my fault, Leela! I do like to throw them around everywhere, you know that."

 

She flicked an eyebrow at him, and Jack looked between them, while they both turned their attention to the two guards at the door.

 

"Why, what good are we standing in this boring old room, we should better get a move on, shouldn't we! Places to be! Things to see!" He stepped towards the doors, and the guards exchanged a glance, and then moved to stop him. "The high council, wasn't it? Don't worry, I'm perfectly capable of escorting myself."

 

"We are to wait for the escort before-" one of the guards started.

 

"Now, that's not necessary, just for dull old me," he returned. "But I do understand you concerns, my good man, I am _very_ good at getting lost. But don't worry, I have my trusty companions with me. Leela is never wrong, you see." He gave her a wink, which made the corner of her mouth twitch into a slight smile.

 

"Lord Doctor, this is necessary, you as a former Lord President of Gallifrey must be-" the guard continued.

 

The Doctor made an exaggerated gesture. "Exactly! I am the former Lord President of Gallifrey and you are making me wait! How dare you! I have important business to attend with the high council!" He strided out of the doors, and threw over his shoulder, "Leela, Jack, we will be going now. Let's go."

 

Jack quickly brushed past the guards, following Leela and the Doctor back through the corridors of the Citadel. The guards quickly pursued them, and one spoke into his arm piece.

 

They gained pursuers the closer they got to the hangar bay, which made the gun on Jack's ankle feel all the more heavy.

 

How do you shoot a Time Lord?

 

Wouldn't they simply regenerate and come back twice as angry? A bit like the Hulk. Perhaps a bit _too_ much, and Jack didn't fancy dying again today. God knew what it was doing to the grey creeping into his hairline.

 

They turned into a new corridor, and there were already two guards waiting for them before the final elevator down to the hangar bay. Others came to a stop behind the Doctor, Jack and Leela, who had been following them in pursuit.

 

The Doctor flashed the two in front of the elevator a grin.

 

"Gentleman! Or is it ladies? Esteemed guardspeople? Oh, but isn't it a lovely night for a stroll? I was looking for the council chambers. I did tell the guards, I get lost rather easily–"

 

Next to Jack, Leela threw a guard from behind over her shoulder and to the ground.

 

The Doctor held up his hand to stop the two in front of him from advancing.  "Now, now," he said, "you know Leela! Leela, good old, human Leela, living with the Time Lords-" 

 

She was pointing her knife at another behind them, and Jack also quickly found himself with his gun between his fingers, pointing it at the Time Lords in front of the Doctor.

 

"Ah," the Doctor said, having glanced over his shoulder at Leela, and then back to the two guards in front of him. "I'll tell you, my friends, this was _not_ how I imagined my day to go–"

 

"The high council cannot let you leave with the information you possess, Doctor," one of them said. "They cannot let you endanger Gallifrey."

 

"Frankly, I'm more concerned about fracturing time–"

 

All of the guards took a step forward, and Jack, Leela and the Doctor took a step backward.

 

"Come any closer, _Time Lord_ , I will take all of your regenerations," Leela growled at the guard closest to her.

 

Nobody moved, until the guard closest to the Doctor reached for his gun. Jack locked eyes with him, pleading, because the last thing he wanted to do was tell his Doctor he went to Gallifrey and then shot one of his people.

 

The guard didn't stop, and Jack was about to squeeze the trigger, but the elevator door slid open with a  _ding_.

 

"I do hope your commander has a very good explanation for this," a deep, sharp voice said, and six guards stepped out of the small lift and into the corridor, leveling their weapons at the other guards.

 

The other guards straightened immediately. "Cardinal Braxiatel! I-I- We had orders from–"

 

"Go," he dismissed, and stepped out of the elevator, standing next to the Doctor. "I will deal with you all later."

 

They scuttled off, and Braxiatel's guards lowered their weapons. The short man leveled the taller one with a look.

 

"I had absolute control of the situation," was the Doctor's defense.

 

Braxiatel shook his head. "You're lucky Flavia didn't see you take that bottle of her finest," he said. "And even then, _I_ need you off Gallifrey so I can sort out this little mess. So, count yourself _very_ lucky."

 

" _Blessed_ , dear brother," the Doctor replied. "You can have the bottle," he offered.

 

"Keep it. Please."

 

"I was hoping you'd say that."

 

Braxiatel rolled his eyes, and Jack just couldn't stop staring because the Doctor had a brother, of all things.

 

And he was dead, in Jack's timeline, and the Doctor knew and couldn't say a word about it.

 

"You need to get you and your gawking companions out of here, _now_ ," Braxiatel continued, when the Doctor hadn't moved. "I can only stall the council for so long. They want your head after what Flavia told you. Rather sensitive internal information, and you know how territorial they get."

 

"I'm not gawking," Jack got in.

 

"You have your mission," Braxiatel went on, ignoring him. "Fulfill it, and as quickly as possible. The council can't argue about you forever."

 

The Doctor gave him a mock salute. "It's their favorite pastime, I thought? Though, I didn't think this time that I was so bad." He gave a shrug. "Apparently not."

 

Braxiatel hesitated from beside the Doctor, and then he turned to face him.

 

"Far more is at work here than arguments about the birth of time," he said slowly, and a frown etched itself onto the Doctor's face.

 

"Brax?"

 

He sighed. "Part of the council have... allied themselves with the Black Guardian."

 

The frown dripped into a shocked expression; all raised eyebrows and distinct cheekbones, with his eyes fixed firmly on his brother.

 

"Then we must help them, Brax! We can't–"

 

"We _can't_. It's too late. He has some sort of hold over them, somehow."

 

The Doctor deflated, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for a retort, but it seemed he had none. Jack swallowed, and in the corner of his eye, he saw Leela look at the floor.

 

This was serious.

 

Very, very serious. And dangerous.

 

If time was threatened, as the Doctor mentioned before, and the high council of Time Lords was being influenced by the Black Guardian-

 

"Yes, I... I have seen this before. He is controlling the Great Vampires, too, somehow," the Doctor said slowly, and quietly. "But _how_ is this possible? The Time Lords. They would bite off your hands _twice_ before you came near them with any sort of leash."

 

"I don't know," Brax said, and any other time, Jack had a feeling the Doctor would have asked him to write that down, sign it, and put it in a museum. "Which is _why_ I need you to go. Find the keys while I figure this out here. And when I know, I'll tell you, and we can sort it out."

 

The Doctor nodded, and then jabbed the elevator button, and let out a pained sigh.

 

"Brax, I..."

 

"You don't need to say anything."

 

"No, I need to say thank you. Brax. Thank you."

 

There was a lot of emotion on the Doctor's face right now, and Jack knew exactly where the fire behind his eyes was coming from.

 

His brother looked taken aback, but recovered quickly, and gave the Doctor a smile, complete with a slow nod.

 

"Get going," he said.

 

The Doctor was quickly on his way back to his TARDIS.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make it reallllllly clear- We're sticking with the pre-S5 universe for the main timeline, so the start of the universe is in fact not the exploding TARDIS, but simply an unknown energy source.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is the boring bit where I sum up all of the loose ends to set us up for the next part of the fic. I feel better knowing I've tied it all off in a separate chapter before I continue.
> 
> Now you've reached here, you should understand what the overarching plot is, our (current) subplots, our main villain and that I'm doing so much foreshadowing it's ridiculous. Only 270,000 words to go! Here's to hope I don't put you to sleep :*)

Romana, the younger one, sat in one of the pilot's chairs, thumbing a loose thread on her jacket, and over the turmoil of thoughts in her head.

 

The monitor was blinking angrily, telling her over, over and over: TRACKING DATA UNAVAILABLE.

 

At least, the remainder of Captain Jack Harkness's team was safe, back in their base on Earth. Not that they were at all happy about it. Susan was safe, too, thanks to Jack's sacrifice.

 

And now they were parked on the other side of the universe, probably, while the eleventh Doctor sorted out a few things with his first self.

 

"You were thrown into the thick of it," he was telling him. They were around the other side of the console; the Doctor was leaning against it, facing the first Doctor and Susan, who were watching him like he was mad. He continued, "Which is quite my fault, actually. Probably. Somehow. Everything is usually my fault. Like the idea to stick water into bottles, I think that was my idea, somewhere along the line. Oh, and banana splits! I _did_ have a little bit too much to drink that day, mind you, so I don't remember all the... ah... _finer_ details–"

 

"Oh, would you get on with it, good man?" the first Doctor interrupted, stamping his cane into the glass floor.

 

"Right," the Doctor said, a little deflated. "Sorry. _Yes_ , thrown into the thick of it. And it's not supposed to happen like that. Believe me, it's not, and I can't fix it right now, not without some help. You're going to have to stick with me until we can sort you out," he explained.

 

His first self made an unimpressed sound, but surprisingly, didn't object any further.

 

"Thank you," the eleventh Doctor returned, and actually sounded quite sincere. "Because, you know, laws and time and all that. Timelines. Wibbly wobbly."

 

"We both had _identical_ education, dear boy. I definitely know. As do you," the first Doctor replied. "The timelines will reassert themselves once the paradox completely concludes, with us having no memory of these events. The Time Lords will ensure it."

 

The younger Romana swallowed.

 

"Yes. Yes! Exactly right," the eleventh Doctor replied, unfazed. "I'm glad good ol' Borusa managed to get a little bit through our noggin."

 

The Doctor went on, while the younger Romana was joined by herself, the older one. She had disappeared shortly after they landed here, wherever it was. The younger version blinked at the senior, who smiled disarmingly.

 

"You're thinking," the older one said.

 

"I'm listening to him." The younger one nodded towards the time rotor, which hid the first and eleventh Doctors and Susan behind it. "He's doing all of his out loud."

 

Her older self laughed a little. "Sounds like him," she agreed. Then, she sighed, and tried to meet her own gaze. "You wanted to know about the Time War," she said.

 

The monitor continued to blink, TRACKING DATA UNAVAILABLE.

 

Romana did meet her own gaze, but only to narrow her eyes. "I did," she confirmed, "but not _now_ , not while he's here." She inclined her head towards the time rotor. She meant the first Doctor, naturally, but also the eleventh Doctor, in part.

 

Now she really had had a chance to _look_ at him as he jetisoned Jack off into Rassilon-knows-where, she was hesitant. It wasn't her doubt of his actions in the war, but more the fact he seemed to have accepted it; that it seemed like absolutely _nothing_ to him.

 

And her.

 

"Oh." Her older self seemed surprised at the younger's blunt response. "Yes." She recovered quickly. "That's probably best."

 

"But I did want to ask about you," Romana continued, "about us."

 

"Us?"

 

"Yes!" She turned to face herself as exasperation overtook her suddenly, with her stomach taking a nosedive to her toes. " _We_ killed Jack like it was absolutely nothing. And that's... I... _I_ don't want to know. Why that decision was so easy for you."

 

"First, he's a fixed–" her older self replied.

 

She interrupted, "That doesn't matter! He's still a _man_ , Romana. He's not expendable."

 

"It was a choice," she tried instead. "Him or Susan. The Doctor's _granddaughter._ We've already lost so much, me and him, and I know he couldn't bear it again. I certainly couldn't."

 

"That's not what I'm arguing," she accused in return. "I know it was a choice. I _know_. And Jack agreed, Rassilon bless him, but you – _we_ – didn't _care_. You treated him like he was a soldier, like he was born to die just there. At least the Doctor looked like he regretted it."

 

At that, her older self's coming retort faded off into a distant memory. She looked down at her hands instead, and Romana, the younger one, gave a sigh. "Sorry," she apologised gently.

 

"No," she replied. "You're right." She looked back up, and Romana, the younger one, properly met her gaze again. "Do you want to know why?"

 

"I know why," Romana answered vaguely, sparing a glance to the time rotor, so to say,  _shut up, Romana, the Doctor's entire future is right there._

 

"Jack," Romana, the older one, suddenly said, loudly, enough for the eleventh Doctor to stop talking nonsense to the first Doctor.

 

"What?" he asked, leaning to peer around the time rotor at Romana, twice. The older one was already on her feet, at the TARDIS console. "Oh!" he cried, and made his way around the console to join her, nearly losing his footing on the way.

 

Sure, enough, the screen was blinking LOCATING... LOCATING... at them. Romana hadn't even noticed.

 

The first Doctor appeared in time to see the eleventh Doctor hit the top of the screen with his palm a few times, hard, shouting, "Come onnnnn! You're a space-time machine, you shouldn't have issues with RAM!"

 

It suddenly started blinking coordinates at them. Romana got to her feet, while the lines on the Doctor's faces etched themselves deeply into his skin.

 

"That's..." he said slowly.

 

The doors burst open, and everyone's attention snapped to the bunch who strolled through the open doors, in the middle of time and space, hundreds of light years from anything useful.

 

"There you are!" the fourth Doctor exclaimed. "I went back to Earth first, but the secret base was empty– " He stopped abruptly, on the landing in front of the door, staring up at the Time Lords around the console. All five of them. "Oh. You didn't mention gramps was here, Eleven! _Now_ this is a party. Actually, more the opposite of one."

 

"Young man, what exactly are you trying to imply?" the first Doctor returned with a frown.

 

"That's young _Doctor_ to you, Doctor."

 

Realisation scrawled itself across the first Doctor's face. "Oh. Oh my," he said. "And pardon me, _gramps?_ "

 

"Freudian slip," the fourth Doctor returned. "Happens a lot in this regeneration. Must be the big teeth. Romana?" he called up to her, his Romana, and had the biggest grin of his face all of a sudden, which suddenly made the whole universe a bit brighter. "What do you think?"

 

"Definitely," she returned, and she thanked the universe that that stupid grin was contagious. She could have sworn there was some edge of concern in his eyes as he looked her up and down, too.

 

Meanwhile, the eleventh Doctor was gesturing to the open door. The two TARDIS were parked door to door. “But how does that even _work_?” he asked. “You can’t just… bah! It’s the same object! We should have all died a terrible, paradoxical death by now. Not to mention how you even got in. I changed the lock eons ago.”

 

“With the key, maybe?” Jack Harkness, in all his living glory, strode into the console room, with his TARDIS key dangling from a chain between his fingers. “Just a thought.”

 

Romana, the younger one, never thought she’d be so glad to see a fixed point in space and time.

 

“Keys are good for that, aren’t they,” the eleventh Doctor remarked. “Opening things. Doors. But that’s good news, _great_ , the team’s back together–!” Then, he stopped, looking between Jack and the fourth Doctor. “ _Oh_. But that’s not right, because you’re… and he’s… what?”

 

“A very long story, Eleven, which I will summarise for you quite easily: the Black Guardian,” the fourth Doctor helpfully supplied. “But we also have a plan now ourselves, which the Time Lords constructed, before us. _You_. How embarrassing.”

 

“Oi!”

 

The fourth Doctor ignored him, continuing, “He has the Stone of Rassilon, which is a key for something called the Vault of the Universe. Obviously, we have to prevent him from doing that by finding the other keys. _But_ only the White Guardian knows where they are. Wonderful, hm?”

 

“Oh… come on. That’s just unfair,” the eleventh Doctor complained. “I’ve already dealt with him. You can do it, that way it’s fair.”

  
“However,” the fourth Doctor went on, while the eleventh Doctor gave a sigh, resigning himself to being ignored, “that’s not my present concern. How on _earth_ did Jack get into the time vortex? There are certainly better places to take a stroll."

 

Romana, the younger one, looked at the eleventh Doctor, who was suddenly busy pretending to play with the monitor. At the silence, the fourth Doctor prompted, "Yes, come on, now. Use your words. I don't have all day. Time is time I could spend doing something else away from my eleventh self. It's not time to waste. Or would you like me to jump forward a few hours? Come back later?"

 

"I wouldn't trust your accuracy–" the eleventh Doctor quipped in return.

 

"Hush, Eleven!" the middle Doctor interrupted. "I'm the one doing the insulting, I think I'm quite entitled by now." He settled his older self with a look, at which his younger self frowned but said nothing.

 

"I... it's, well, rather complicated. A long story," the eleventh Doctor spat out, waving his hands around vaguely. He looked, finally, to his fourth self. Jack was next to him, looking guilty, which made the younger Romana look down at the floor. "Weeping Angels, as you know, can be quite troublesome. Very annoying if you get returned somewhere, because all the timelines start overlapping and you can very easily create paradoxes if you're not careful–"

 

"I sent Jack into the Cardiff rift," Romana's older self said.

 

"Sorry," the fourth Doctor replied. "I seem to have misheard.You did _what?_ "

 

The eleventh Doctor looked at the floor, too. Romana, the older one, explained, "Susan looked into its eyes. We had no choice but to sever the connection, using Jack as bait for the rift."

 

The look Romana got from her Doctor made Romana, the younger one, swallow.

 

"As I'm sure," the fourth Doctor then said, taking Jack's hand between both of his own, "no one has actually appreciated your deed, seeing that my older self is... ah, let's not say an idiot, but something very close, and my younger self just plainly doesn't care about you. So, _thank_ _you_ , you saved my granddaughter!" He shook his hand firmly.

 

"Susan is my granddaughter too," the eleventh Doctor growled in return, turning slowly to look at his younger self. "I was protecting her. Jack was, too. He knew what he was doing–"

 

The fourth Doctor interrupted, "Ah, yes, one always does desire to be exposed to deathly vortex radiation, don't they? Jack? Shall I put some in your tea?"

 

Jack looked helplessly between both Doctors. "I–"

 

"Or I could sew some into your coat, Captain!" the fourth Doctor continued. "You'd be wonderuflly accquainted with it by then."

 

The eleventh Doctor's face was dangerously unreadable. "If you want to play games, Four, then I will happily oblige–"

 

"Games! Hah! I love a good game. Cricket, tennis, basketball, jump rope; you name it. I'll beat you, Eleven. I won't even cheat, cross my hearts."

 

"You have _no_ idea–"

 

"Would both of you _stop it_?" Romana, the eldest, also cut over them sharply, stopping the both of them mid-retort. "It was _me_. I pushed for it to save Susan. There, that's it, done. I'm the heartless murderer. Now can we _please_ stop and start saving the universe? The longer we put this off, the more dangerous this paradox is going to become."

 

That was a war lord talking; apathatically, emotionlessly, and logically. It chilled Romana, the younger one, to her very core.

 

"The Lady Romana is right," the first Doctor pointed out, raising his chin. "We can sort out these petty disputes when the time is right. Can't you feel the weight of the universe slowly crashing down around us, men? Even if this paradox is stable like you tell me, Eleven, cracks are slowly beginning to form."

 

"I can feel it," Susan said, and her voice seems to pierce through both Doctors' resolves, crumbling them into almost nothing. "It's like... a wall, pressing down on my mind. Compressing everything. It feels funny."

 

"A day in the life, my dear Susan," the fourth Doctor responded affectionately, and then sighed.

 

He looked to the eleventh Doctor, who met his gaze, pursed his lips, and then turned his attention towards the TARDIS console.

 

"Thank you," the older Romana said breathlessly, and exhaled deeply, breathing tension out into the air. Presently, the room was thick with it, but it had slowly started to dissipate.

 

"Doctor?" a female voice suddenly floated through the open doors to the fourth Doctor's TARDIS. "What has happened? I heard shouting before–" She stopped short when she appeared in the doorway, garbed in brown leather to which she obviously was comfortable in. There was a knife strapped to her hip. Her brown hair fanned down her back, long and wavy; recently brushed.

 

The eleventh Doctor was grinning. "Leela," he acknowledged.

 

"You are the Doctor," she realised quite quickly, and her wandering gaze of the TARDIS console room came to settle on the eleventh Doctor, in all his bow-tied glory.

 

"That's me," he confirmed, still grinning. "Looking scary, as ever. How's Gallifrey been treating you? Sorry, I'll never actually get around to asking, I hope you can forgive me. Busy life. Lots of corners of the universe to see, planets to save, wrong verbs to use, things like that. You know."

 

Knowingly, Leela smiled. "The Time Lords treat me well. Thank you."

 

He tipped his non-existent hat in reply, a sad smile playing on his face, but the younger Romana knew the savage couldn't see it from where she was standing.

 

"Yet another companion?" the first Doctor raised, looking between Leela, the fourth Doctor and the eleventh Doctor. "By the stars, good men, how many do we pick up?"

 

Now, the fourth and eleventh Doctors' gazes did interlock again, but they both smile to each other in salute to all companions, past, present and future. "Oh, One," the fourth Doctor then lamented. "Never enough. And, speaking of companions. Leela; you changed."

 

She frowned as all eyes in the console room turned to her. "Robes aren't practical for fighting this Black Guardian you told me about," she returned.

 

"And Eleven, your companions, where did they get to? And Torchwood?"

 

"I dropped them off home," he replied. "It was easier," he explained nonchantly. "And Amy and Rory are... here. She's cross with me, and Rory and I–he's a very intelligent gentleman–so I'm giving her some space." Thankfully, all the fourth Doctor did was nod in vague understanding.

 

"Well then," he said instead. "Three Doctors, seven companions, a lovely little diabolical dilemma, and the White Guardian. What could possibly go wrong?"

 


End file.
